Hermione Granger and the Great Idea
by Mnsk
Summary: To eleven-year old child genius Hermione Granger, the Wizarding World is ancient and almost incomphrehensible. Can she really leave her advanced muggle knowledge behind? Not a chance. With one idea, she sets out to change the world.
1. An Embossed Letter

**Summary: **

To eleven-year old child genius Hermione Granger, the Wizarding World seems like something out of the fifteenth century, not the best place for a true prodigy to develop. Can she really leave technology behind? Not a chance. With one idea, she sets out to change the world. A story of intelligence, friendship and properly used plotholes.

**I have already published this story before, so some of you may recognize it. It was last updated a few months ago, and I'd stopped writing for a while since then. I decided to take it down and re-write it because I just re-read it and it didn't seem up to par, so I'm going to change some things. ****I plan to use my more-experienced writing skills and better-than-before plot-ideas to make this story what I originally wanted it to be. And yes, if anyone is wondering, this was inspired by Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, a must-read for all HP fans.**

**Chapter 1**

"Mum, look! I've got a letter!"

Hermione Jean Granger, daughter of Fred and Monica Granger, rushed into the living room, proudly waving around an embossed envelope with gold-plated lettering. It wasn't the first letter she had ever received. Most of the others had been acceptance letters to gifted programs, and letters informing her parents of her outstanding performance in exams. But it was certainly the prettiest. The words on the front were written in long, delicate, cursive script, and the envelope was made of fine parchment instead of normal paper, the type used back in the seventeenth century. Earlier that day she had been at her piano lessons, and on the way back she had checked their mailbox to find a letter addressed directly to her. It was a rather exciting event, especially since email had taken over.

"Really? Is it from the junior spelling bee you attended? Did you place first?" Her mother asked eagerly, a smile on her face, "Daddy's home today, he'll be able to hear the good news as well!"

"No it's not mum, I think it's from a school. It's very curious really. You see, someone's trained an owl to deliver it to our house. It must be a very expensive place", she beamed. Expensive meant good, in her parent's eyes. It meant that it was another shiny accomplishment she could use to decorate her profile when she went to university. Being dentists who owned their own dental clinics, her parents had money to spend. They could afford it. More importantly, it also meant that maybe she could keep the owl.

Hermione Granger had her entire educational life planned out in front of her. She had read the Feynman Lectures on physics and had borrowed biology textbooks from her grad-student neighbor. She had developed her memory well enough to memorize vocabulary from two new languages, and pleaded programming classes from her dad, who had minored in computer engineering in his university days. In class, she quickly memorized all the textbooks they gave her so that she could regurgitate it all onto the tests and spend her time on more interesting things to study in a non-regurgitative manner.

She wanted to go to a prestigious high school, and polish her profile so she could attend an even more prestigious university and study nanotechnology. It was all perfectly planned out in her mind. "What does the envelope say? Where's it from?" Her mother looked over her shoulder, and her father got up from his chair to peer over as well. She turned the envelope over, excitement building.

"It's from…Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?..." She stared at the letter curiously, all the excitement withering away. Witches, of course, didn't exist. Neither did wizards. That meant that this could be a scam. Pity, the envelope had been so promising. At least she could preserve the parchment.

"It's a prank Hermione. Pay no attention to it", her mother lost interest upon hearing the words 'witch' and 'wizard'. Most rational adults would.

"Maybe we should give the sender a prank. Tell him he's been accepted into Oxford University and watch him try to explain himself and his 'admissions' letter to the admissions council. Show 'em how the Grangers do things", her father joked, "but open it anyway. It would take an inhumane lack of curiosity not to."

Curiosity was another shiny star-attribute of the Granger family, encouraged from birth. The bushy-haired girl carefully slid her father's silver letter opener down the side of the letter. Inside was a single piece of paper, folded in three parts sharply enough to cause papercuts. She opened it out and cleared her throat:

_Hermione Jean Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. School opens on September 1__st__. Attached to this letter is a train ticket for the Hogwarts Express, and a list of supplies you must buy before the start of classes. Seeing as you are a Muggle-born, we will be sending someone to assist you with your school supplies shortly._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wofric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

"Why that's ridiculous! And I'm not just referring to his name! But there must be something behind it…" Hermione delved into her thoughts. It was familiar territory.

"It's just a prank dear, don't worry about it", her mother called from where she was looking through her patient files. She was the down-to-earth sort of women, and she didn't much like strange things. Luckily, Hermione had been brought up reading classical fantasy, right beside the Principia Mathematica. Her mind was a rarely perfect mix of creativity and rationality.

"It can _not_ be just a prank. Obviously someone took the time to emboss this in gold plated lettering, and they've trained a burrowing owl to deliver it to me. Do you know that burrowing owls are now an endangered species? Why on earth would one of them be here in London?" She thought harder, but could not find any motives for something like this to happen.

"Well", she continued, "it does say that they'll be sending someone. If no one appears, then we can safely consider it a prank. If someone does come knocking, we can question them", she finished, tucking the letter into her messenger bag from piano lessons. It was forgotten for the time being, in favor of the smell of food rising from the kitchen.

"If you say so dear. Now come eat lunch. We want to know all about this new school you'll be attending this year", she talked while setting up a plate of an egg salad sandwiches. Hermione had been accepted into a gifted program at a better school, and she had already dutifully researched everything there was to know about the school.

"Well, I'm very excited about it. You see, it has loads of honors classes and it's starting to seem like the perfect school. You get discharged from the program if you don't keep your average above 80, which I think it much to low. They should make it 85. But anyway, I want to stay here for grade six and then move to a private academy for grade seven, one that all the universities will notice. I've been on school websites and I've read all about their histories. And I printed out their math curriculum, which looks so interesting. Much better that than the school I would have gone to. I also finished reading all the books on their reading list so that I'll be prepared", she went on, blissfully happy in her own accomplishments. Her parents didn't attempt to fully comprehend what she said, but they listened and nodded their heads in pride. It was what they usually tended to do, with a child genius in the house.

"But what about your friends? Won't you miss them?" her father finally asked once she was done explaining her new school.

"Oh, I never made any. I'm just nice to everyone and everyone's alright to me but I don't make close friends, it's not very wise to do so when I plan to move to a new school for year six anyway, I didn't want to disappoint anyone", she said, not seeming the slightest bit sad. It was true that she'd never made many friends. Most of the other children had tried to play with her when she was little, but this generally involved leaving her books behind in favor of running around in the mud. To her, it was a lose-lose situation. She had no fun, and the other kids had no fun from her. Since then, she'd been left politely alone and she preferred it. The only time she willingly interacted with other students was when group projects came around, in which case she would pick a group of figureheads and do all the work herself.

Monica Granger raised her eyebrows. It was true that her daughter never brought other children home and preferred to have her birthday parties with no one else but the family, but she had never expected it to have become this bad. There was a serious danger of her growing up to be 'the old lady with all the cats'.

"But sweetheart you need to make friends, they'll help you through school and you'll learn important socializing skills that will help you later on", she tried to explain, "Come now, promise me you'll try to make a few friends this year, alright?"

"But mum I won't even see them after the year's over! Haven't you been listening? I want to move to a private academy for grade seven! What's the point of making friends when I'm just going to leave them? What if I miss them? It'll affect my studies!" She protested. Her father gave her a stern look, "It's supposed to be fun, 'Mione, just give it a try alright?"

"Fine, I promise", she gave in grudgingly, not really planning to anyway. She finished her sandwich in one last bite and shoved her plate to the side. The parchment crinkled, still buried in her messenger bag.

There were a few minutes of silence, in which the only sound was chewing, but then everyone jumped when the doorbell rang loudly.

"Oh that must be my secretary, she's over to deliver the files of some new patients", her father got up from his seat and headed over to the door, brushing crumbs off his hands and onto his trousers. The other two went back to their lunch. A few seconds passed before a different voice emanated down the hallway.

"…I see Hermione Jean Granger please?"

The visitor's voice was soft but strict-sounding. Hermione leapt up from her seat, excited. First she'd gotten a pretty letter, and now she was even getting a door-call! That didn't even happen to most adults! It took her a few more seconds to connect the two events. Once connected, her discarded excitement rushed back.

She walked out of the room and down the hall, to the door.

"Did someone ask for me daddy?" She asked. Her father moved aside to allow a tall woman with dark brown hair into the house. She was wearing an odd combination of a red tartan pencil skirt with a white button-up shirt that ended exactly where the skirt began. Clearly she was not planning on lifting her arms high anytime soon. Her face was square-shaped but pointed at the chin, and she had on minimal makeup. Hermione guessed her age to be around forty. Certainly not the type of prankster she was expecting. She'd thought it would be someone younger, and more mischievous, but who knew? Maybe she had been the prankster of the town in her day. Talk about falling for stereotypes.

"Yes, that would be me, Miss Granger. I am here regarding your new school this year", she stated. 'School' was a magic word in the granger household. Her father stepped aside immediately to allow the woman to enter, even though he probably had no clue where she came from.

"Please, come in."

She walked in and removed her heels, leaving them by the door. Fred Granger lead her to the living room, where Monica had entered as well, finished with lunch. She raised an eyebrow at her husband, who mouthed the sentence, 'Hermione's new school' to her. Upon hearing (or seeing, rather) those words, a pleasant smile overtook her face and she waved the taller lady to a sofa.

"Please sit down, what is it that you wanted to discuss?"

"It's concerning the acceptance letter you received earlier today", she told him. Hermione watched closely for any signs of laughter, any indication that it was a joke. If it was, this lady was good. Her features were as still as stone.

"Acceptance letter?" her mother questioned. It seemed like she had already disregarded the pretty letter from earlier that morning, not even connecting it with 'school'. But Hermione knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Do you mean the prank letter from a school of witchcraft?"

The lady looked at her, confused, "Prank?"

"Yes, I received it this morning. May I ask where you managed to find a burrowing owl? They're endangered, you see. They should be sent to breeding so that they don't become extinct. And then we can release them into the wild so they'll never become endangered again. I've read a lot about them you see. Why was it even awake in the middle of the morning? I thought they were nocturnal. Do you mind if I keep it or would you like it back?" She went on.

The lady who had entered seemed not to hear her, "You thought it was a prank?"

"Well yes. One seems to think that getting a letter that proposes acceptance to a school of wizardry is, in fact, a prank. Did we read it wrong? Hermione is already in a gifted program, we don't really need an invitation from another school", her mother added in. She was clearly trying to be nice, Hermione could see that she thought the woman was a complete nuthead.

"It's not a prank, actually. We sent the letter because Hermione has shown potential to be a witch. It not very common among Muggle families, but it does happen once or twice a year. And when it does, we sent the Muggle-born child an acceptation letter to Hogwarts. It's one of the best schools of magic around, really. And it's run by the great wizard Albus Dumbledore. Your daughter will be very safe there, and you'll see her every summer", the visitor explained.

"Who are you? I'm afraid you must be confused, madam. Magic doesn't exist", her father said matter-of-factly. He was struggling to keep his mouth still, it kept curving up into a sort of mocking laugh.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am the head of Gryffindor House and teacher of Transfiguration at Hogwarts. Magic does exist, Mr. Granger. What would you like me to do to prove it?"

"But-"

"Make something fly", Hermione interrupted her father. He gave her an incredulous look, "'Mione dear, magic doesn't exist."

"We should at least put it to an empirical test, daddy. I'm only being fair", she told him. She didn't reveal that secretly, she thought it would be rather wonderful if magic was real. At the age of eleven, one tends to not have such a firm grasp of reality yet. Adults may find this unnerving but it's very useful for a child. Really develops the divergent thinking skills. Hermione was no different in this matter, like every other child on the planet, she secretly wished for the strange things in her fantasy books to come to life. It was rather nice when they actually did. This event, in particular, definitely had potential.

Minerva McGonagall took out a long rod of dark wood, "Very well then", she pointed it at a vase sitting on the coffee table, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

To the utter surprise of the Grangers, the vase floated up into the air. Hermione was the first to recover. She walked around to it and felt around the nearby area for strings or wind currents. There were none, and the vase was still floating in the air. She then began to feel the vase, to see if it was being turned into a superconductor of some kind. But it felt as normal as any other vase.

"She's really done it, daddy. It's flying", Hermione was lodged firmly in wonder. She wondered how it worked. How on earth could she apply the laws of physics to describe the force that was holding this up? There had to be some way to do it.

"Can you make me another thing fly as well?" She asked, needing more evidence. The lady nodded and said the spell again, this time to the couch. It slowly floated up into the air.

"Well", Monica Granger started, "Now that you've given us a good reason to firmly doubt our most basic perception of reality, what is this school you mentioned?" She seemed dazed, still watching the sofa and vase as if they would come to life.

Without further ado, Minerva McGonagall began her description, "it is a school that will train your daughter in the art of magic. Without the training, she could lose control over her magic. You may deny to send her to Hogwarts, in that case we will prepare a special treatment that will prevents such occurrences, but she will be forbidden to use her magic", McGonagall explained, "It's best to allow her to get used to the Wizarding World. There are many others just like her, born of Muggles."

"Muggles?" Hermione asked.

"People who don't use magic", she explained. They vastly outnumber the people who use magic, so the Wizarding World is kept a secret for safety reasons. You'll learn more about it later. Hermione, have you ever made something happen? Something that you couldn't explain?"

"Well, there _was_ that time I made my friend's cat turn yellow…" she began.

"There was this one time where Mione threw a ball into the air and it flew unnaturally high", Monica Granger said, "Would that be considered magic?" She seemed to be testing Minerva, seeing if this 'magic' was anything significant. She also didn't seem to hear Hermione's cat tale.

"Maybe. Although your daughter's story of turning a cat yellow seems to be more to the point. Color can be manipulated very easily with untrained magic", McGonagall explained.

"Making things float and change color? Is that all magic can be used for?" the bushy haired girl asked hesitantly. It didn't seem as cool as it was supposed to be. She could change the colors of things anytime she wanted. In seconds. With Photoshop.

"It can be used to do things beyond your wildest dreams, dear girl. It can give you convenience, and power. It can enchant things to life. It can bring you all the knowledge you want. That was only a small demonstration, child."

Now _that_, that could _not _be done with Photoshop. Hermione shivered in delight at the explanation. All the knowledge she wanted…that was what won her over.

"Do you accept the invitation to Hogwarts?"

"Hermione, let's talk about this, alright? I think it's probably best if you do go-" her mother began. Seemingly she was under the assumption that her daughter still had her eyes set on the private academy.

"I want to go", Hermione interrupted, "It all sounds fascinating. I can come back and study here during the summer, and then go to Hogwarts during the year."

"Lovely", Minerva McGonagall stated, "now we need to get started with your preparation. You'll start attending the school on September 1st, and we need to get you your school supplies before then. I'll have to come back soon to take you to Diagon Alley for shopping. Is tomorrow morning a good time?" She was all business again, placing down the items she had levitated and putting her long stick of dark wood back into the small case attached to the inside of her pencil skirt. Her sense of fashion really was terrible.

"Yes, tomorrow is alright", Monica Granger said, "but I want to know everything there is to know about this Wizarding World as soon as possible. And I need to be able to contact my daughter at all times."

"I'll bring along someone who will explain everything to you when I come back tomorrow. And I'll also bring an owl so you can keep contact by letter. Hermione, be ready at eight o'clock AM sharp", she stood up.

"But…"Hermione began. Everyone turned to look at her, "Well…I can't just go to a new school without knowing anything about it! Where can I do research on it? Do you have a website?"

McGonagall opened her small purse and put her hand into it. She rummaged in deeper until her entire arm was full inside the tiny purse. It was as if her arm had disappeared, or been dissected and squished into the small area. Hermione watched her closely, looking for air disruptions that may have indicated the existence of wormholes. She was sorely disappointed when the air remained as normal as ever. After a moment of searching she drew her hand back out, in one piece, and handed her a old, worn-out book. The title read _Hogwarts: A History._

"There are many books you can use to learn about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However this is the only one I have on my person, you may read it if you'd like", Minerva McGonagall handed her the giant tome.

"Yes Ms. McGonagall", Hermione agreed politely. The lady had given her a book. That, of course, was a surefire way of guaranteeing her cooperation. And complete adoration. It was rather thick, and it would've been much easier if this school had a website, or any information online, but then again, it was supposed to be secret. She could read it all in a day, and if not she supposed she could sacrifice a few hours of sleep. Thick books were good, they lasted longer.

"I'll see you all again tomorrow then."

And then Minerva McGonagall disappeared.

"Mum, Daddy", Hermione began, "Well…I mean…I'm still going to study nanotechnology one day in university aren't I?"


	2. And Then There were Wands

**A Quick Note: Since this is a story about technology and magic (in the bigger picture), this does take place in the present day. However, since the Wizarding World views technology as simply a replacement for magic, they have not experienced the same drastic technological development as the Muggle World. I probably should have mentioned that earlier. All the reviews are very appreciated, and yes I do have a tendency to mistake McGonagall's first name for 'Amelia' instead of Minerva, it has been corrected. Also, there will not be a Draco/Hermione pairing.**

**Chapter 2**

"…and they divide the students into four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

Hermione Jean Granger had woken up at five in the morning that day, too excited to sleep any longer. She was very much aware of the mechanics of sleep and therefore it's general necessity, but decided that today was jumped up from bed and set the alarm off before it even rang, getting dressed in her favorite pleated skirt and top, and had rushed down to the breakfast table to tell her parents all about Hogwarts. Everything she had read in the book _Hogwarts: A History _the previous night_. _The poor lady was trying her best to listen to her daughter go on and on about it.

"That seems nice. You'll have an easier time making new friends if they put you in groups like this", her mother commented as she waited for the eggs to cook. Hermione could she where she was coming from, but unlike most people, friendship was not on the top of her list, although something else that could potentially hinder her studies was.

"But mum that's _stupid. _Dividing people into houses like that just makes stronger enemies!" She complained. Enemies were bad. They were too risky to make and they were a waste of time. She'd had enemies before. In the fifth grade, there had been this boy in her science class that had almost beaten her in the science fair. The next day she had immediately sought him out. Having a competitor as promising as him had never happened before, and she had been excited to know him, because he was smart and he knew science and the teachers liked him and, well, he had been sort of good-looking too, and that never hurt. Unfortunately her dreams of making an intelligent friend had been crushed when he expressed his anger at being beaten by using a rather creative method known as bullying. Since that day she'd been avoiding him like the plague, because if he saw her in the halls he never hesitated to scatter the books she carried. He never stayed to help her pick them up either.

"Maybe the competition will be good for you. You like competition don't you?"

"Well yes...I suppose…academic competition…"

"That's that then. Tell me about these groups", her mother went on, "I want to know more about this school. The professor said she would bring in someone to help explain everything but I'm rather impatient. I want to know exactly how many classes you will be taking, and what they entail." She certainly looked impatient. She'd never sent her daughter to an unknown school before.

"Well, each house has certain characteristics that go with them. Slytherins are supposed to be cunning and subtle but rather ambitious, Ravenclaws are supposed to be knowledge-seekers, Hufflepuffs are helpers in their communities, and Griffindors are supposed to be brave. It's such blatant discrimination upon character!"

"Yes but when people speak of discrimination, they usually _want _to be judged on character instead. It'll also help friends form, because of common traits", Monica Granger clearly had a one track mind at the moment. Her daughter was going to make friends, and that was that.

"Though looking at the choices, I would like to be a Ravenclaw. Hufflepuffs seem rather boring, Griffindors seem stupid, and they make Slytherins just sound like evil people that no one else likes", she explained, "The names are based on the last names of the four founders of Hogwarts."

"Interesting. I'm sure you'll be a Ravenclaw, sweetie. You've loved learning since you were a baby", her father told her matter-of-factly. It was true. She'd learned to read at an extremely young age, almost before the first grade, and had absorbed book-knowledge into her little brain like a sponge on a mission.

"And I've learned a couple of spells too. I'm going to try them out as soon as I get my wand today."

"Spells? A wand?" Monica Granger glanced at her daughter curiously.

"Yes, wands are used to direct magic into what you want them to do. I'll need to get one today", she told her.

"How much do these wands cost?" Her father asked.

"I don't know. In fact I don't even think they have the same currency as us, I'll have to ask the Professor how I can convert pounds into their currency", she told him. He still looked slightly uneasy. Something that sounded that powerful couldn't be very affordable, even to someone as upper-middle class as himself.

"Anyway, you'll have to call us every day, alright? You've never been to boarding school before so we need to know how you're getting used to it. Your father and I are thinking of buying you a mobile phone with a data plan so you don't need a network. It should connect directly. Writing letters and sending them by owl seems much too tedious", Monica Granger added in. Hermione's face lit up, "I'm going to have my very own mobile? Thanks mum! I'll make sure to call every day! I'll call twice a day if you want me to!"

"Yes, and I also want you to take your laptop with you, so we can send you pictures and such. Don't show off to your friends too much. And I'll be sending you the school texts so that you can study your A-levels later on and take the exams during the summer", her mother smiled at the delight in Hermione's eyes.

At that happy moment, the doorbell rang. Fred Granger leapt up to answer it, with Hermione tailing him. This time, there were two people standing outside when he opened the door. Once of them was Professor Minerva McGonagall, and the other was a ginger-headed man with a sheepish smile on his face. They both wore long black robes that, frankly speaking, hung about them like bed sheets. What horrible fashion.

"Hello again Hermione, Mr. Granger", she addressed them, "this is Arthur Weasley. He works at the Ministry as well, as the head of the Department of Muggle Studies. Out of all of us I supposed he was the only one who knew about Muggle lifestyle so I decided I should bring him here to talk to your wife and yourself about the Wizarding World."

Arthur stuck out his hand, "Pleased to meet you Mr. Granger." Hermione's father shook his hand and they were lead into the house.

Meanwhile, McGonagall turned to Hermione, "Are you ready to go?"

"Perfectly ready. I've finished reading Hogwarts: A History. It was fascinating, thank you for letting me borrow it Professor McGonagall", she fished inside her messenger bag to retrieve the book, and handed it back to her.

"You're very welcome", McGonagall smiled, pleased with her manners, and just slightly unnerved at the girl who had read six-hundred pages in a day, "hold on to my hand while I Apparate us to Diagon Alley."

She took Hermione's hand in hers and pulled her closer. In a second of numbness, the girl tripped and was pulled up, a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. They were in a completely different place from where they had been two seconds ago. It seemed like the back of a restaurant, or a bar. It was sparsely populated, with only a few short men standing around one table, and the place was decorated like a Russian public house from the eighteenth century. These people clearly had ancient taste. There was a brick wall on one end and a cobblestone path leading out the bar's back entrance.

Hermione looked around nervously, "Where are we and how did we get here?"

"I just used a technique called side-along Apparation. You'll learn it later", the older woman said dismissively.

"When will I learn it?"

"In a few years."

"That's too far away", Hermione pouted.

"Well you'll have to wait."

"How does it work?"

"I just said that you'll learn it later, don't be so curious", McGonagall told her.

"Madam, in my father's words, it would take an inhumane lack of curiosity not to ask. I think I've just experienced teleportation", Hermione said solemnly. She was actually thinking something along the lines of folding over the space-time continuum in order for two different places at different times to touch.

"Tele…pardon? You won't be learning how to Apparate until your sixth year, so I'm sorry to say that you're not allowed to know it right now", she finished, "Now step aside. We're going to enter Diagon Alley from here."

She slid her wand out of her wand holster, and quickly tapped a succession of bricks. Suddenly, the wall started moving. Bricks were displacing themselves aside, making the wall twice as thick, but with an entrance through the middle. As they moved, Hermione could see a long alley of shops, bustling with life. It had a very Victorian feel to it, Dickens would have felt right at home. The street was made of cobblestone, each stone seemed to have had a very long life, trampled by many feet. The shop fronts advertised with wooden boards displaying their names, and boasted curious trinkets from dirty glass windows. Hermione watched the scene in silent awe, a film of life from a different world seemed to be playing in front of her. People were walking around, holding packages of things and wearing strange looking robe-like clothes and skirts. Most of them were young adults and children, rushing around with parents and friends.

When the bricks stopped moving, McGonagall stepped through and Hermione followed cautiously.

"Do you have your list of supplies?"

"Yes Professor", she dug in her messenger bag for a list of items, "I'll need…a wand, a medium sized cauldron, a owl, rat, or toad…Professor I don't have any money. I've got my credit card with me but from what I read it seemed that there's a completely new currency system at place here", she said hesitantly.

"The Ministry has a system in place for Muggle-borns to be able to buy a certain amount of school-related things with Ministry funding, since there aren't many muggle-borns each year and it's affordable for them to do so. For the rest of your purchases, we will set up an account at the Gringotts Bank. Do your parents keep any gold of silver?"

"No…not really. My mum used to have a lot of silver jewelry, but she's sold it or given it away. But I know that they can probably afford to buy silver bars if I need it."

"No problem then", McGonagall opened her purse and took out a few coins, "the lowest form of currency is the Knut. They're made of bronze, and you can use them to buy inexpensive things such as quills or butter beer when you're older. Then there's the Sickle. They're made of silver. You can bring in silver to the bank and have it turned into Sickles at the current exchange rate to spend. Most of the items in the Wizarding World can be bought with Sickles: clothes, school supplies, food. Then there's the Galleon. These are gold, and you don't have to worry about having any of these. The only thing you'll need them for is to buy your wand, and Muggle-borns can get their wands on Ministry funding", she put the coins back, "but for now you have 10 galleons and 94 Sickles to spend on a loan card, we can use it on your supplies and then worry about opening your bank account. Now follow me, we need to get you a wand."

Hermione followed her down the street of Diagon Alley. Immediately, she saw a book shop. A magical book shop. She'd been trained since the age of six to recognize a bookshop, she could probably find them while sleepwalking. Her eyes focused on it for a while, trying to read the titles of books through the glass windows. She stopped following the Professor for a moment to walk over to the shop and look at the display.

"The most basic of household spells", she read the out loud quietly, "A guide to understanding the sources of magic. Enchanting common items, for the beginner witch or wizard. Amazing…"

She wondered if she could go inside. Going to Hogwarts without even knowing everything on the first semester curriculum seemed absolutely horrifying, especially since there were children there who had been brought up with this knowledge for their whole lives. If she studied magic and basic spells, then maybe it would be more comforting. She walked into the store and picked up a book titled 'Potions for the Beginner: How to brew the Stuff of Dreams'. She opened it to the first page, and began reading in her head. It was only a matter of time until she was engrossed. She stood there for half an hour, a crink developing in her neck and her legs aching to sit down. But she ignored the aches and read on. Eventually, she looked up to see if there was a place to sit down and read, but instead found herself staring into a pair of blue eyes.

"Oh, you're reading that book. I've already finished it you know."

A boy with platinum blond hair was standing behind her, smirking. The boy pointed to a shelf of Advanced Potions books, "In fact I've read all of those as well. I know all the theory behind it, even if I wasn't allowed to practice most of it."

Hermione looked at him in surprise. Someone else who read their books before school? Definitely her type of person. She gave him a small smile, "Well, I'm going to try and introduce myself to all the most important concepts in my classes before school starts. I've still got a week, I think. Are you attending Hogwarts as well?"

"Well I'm not going to Maxime's girl's academy now am I? Of course I'm attending Hogwarts. And good luck with that, I suppose. You'll never be as accomplished with a late start like that but I suppose I can manage to share my expertise once in a while", his smirk became wider. Having no friends herself, Hermione, with all her cluelessness in friendship, took this to be a very friendly statement. After all, he was offering her knowledge, and in Hermione's world, this meant friendship.

"Anyway, what house do you think you'll be in?" he asked. Hermione knew her answer to that, "I'm almost sure I'll be in Ravenclaw, actually. What about you?"

"Slytherin, no doubt about it. Ravenclaws are alright too, I guess. You just have to make sure you don't end up in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Those two houses are for the weaker witches and wizards, and the Gryffindors are widely known for their stupidity", he seemed confident in his answer.

"Can you really choose what house you're in?" Hermione questioned. Now that this boy had confirmed some her previous thoughts (well, in more of an extreme), she badly wanted to make sure she landed in Ravenclaw.

"I don't think so, but it's usually fairly obvious. Everyone in my family has been a Slytherin. And my father guarantees that I'll be put in Slytherin. Have you ever heard of him? Lucius Malfoy?"

"I think I've heard him mentioned sometime", Hermione fibbed. It was just a little fib, and she'd read in a psychology book that people were friendlier to you if you had something in common with them.

"I'm Draco Malfoy by the way. Who are you? I've never seen you before", he asked, running a hand through his platinum blond hair.

"Hermione Granger. I'm new here. I'm actually in the middle of buying my school supplies", she replied with a friendly smile.

"Well obviously. It's a week before school, who does anything else? I'm having my house-elf buy the necessities for me. I don't want to waste my time shopping for them. I'd rather be here in a bookstore", he shrugged. Hermione was won over instantly. He was smart, and he knew how to optimize his time by learning from books instead of shopping. Instant friend material, maybe her mother had been correct after all.

"Have you read Hogwarts: A History?" She asked. It was the only book on magic she'd read so far, and it would be wonderful if he had read it too. She didn't like small talk very much and she wanted to get to more interesting conversation.

"Oh yes, I have. A long time ago. I know Hogwarts inside out", he replied proudly. Her eyes lit up with interest, "fascinating book, wasn't it? Professor McGonagall let me borrow it from her yesterday and I finished it in a day. I love learning about my schools before I attend them. I only wish I had the curriculum with me so I can learn everything off it before class starts."

"I've tried that. Unfortunately the old warts at the Ministry won't allow us to do 'under-age magic' though. Such a shame", he related, "Although I can still do a few actual spells, and no one will know because we're in a magical area already. Do you want to see?"

"I'd love to!" Hermione's eyes widened in admiration. Him, she could get used to. Draco carefully took out a long, slender wand made of dark cherry wood and waved it a little, "Lumos!" In a second the end of his wand lit up.

"That's amazing! How do you do that!"

"I can show you, do you have your wand yet?"

"No…I haven't gotten one yet", her shoulders drooped, "but just show me how to do it and I'm sure I'll be able to as soon as I've got one."

"Fine. What you do is quickly swish your wand from left to right, make a small loop upward, and then flick in sharply downward. And while you do this you say 'Lumos', which is actually Latin for light", Draco explained it with the glee of a boy telling of his misadventures. Hermione looked on, amazed.

"Where did the light come from?" She asked.

"What do you mean where did the light come from?"

"Well, you cant just suddenly create an area of intense heat from nothing. It violates the Second law of Thermodynamics", she explained. He looked very intelligent, he probably knew the basics of thermodynamics at least.

"The what? I made the light appear from my wand, Granger. It came from my incantation", he explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Hermione sighed inwardly. Seemed he wasn't as smart as she had expected him to be…ah well. He was still much smarter than the other kids her age. And her mother _had_ told her to make friends after all.

"By the way, who are you here with? If you're new here then you can't have gotten here all by yourself", he asked. Suddenly Hermione spun around. She was nowhere to be seen. She'd lost Professor McGonagall.

"Gosh I have to go look for her!" She exclaimed, "it was very nice to meet you Draco Malfoy, I do hope I'll see you again when school starts", she gave him a quick smile and ran out of the store, feeling quite a bit like how Cinderella probably felt during her ball at midnight.

One quick scan of the streets told her that Professor McGonagall wasn't anywhere in the nearby vicinity. Where could she have gone? Hermione tried to remember back to the last time she had seen her.

_Now follow me, we need to get you a wand…_

Oh yes! They had been heading towards a wand shop! All she had to do was find a way to get to the nearest wand shop. Hermione thought for a moment, and then turned to see a boy her age, with glasses. He was looking around, and his eyes fell on her. She made her way towards him.

"Excuse me", she said when she'd reached where he was standing, "can you tell me where I can buy a wand?"

The boy with glasses opened his mouth to answer, but someone else beat him to the task. A _huge _someone else. The man standing behind the boy looked to be almost eight feet high and a good measurement wide as well.

"You want a wand, ya say? You be going right down there little miss, name's Ollivanders, the shop. Best wands around", the large man pointed out a store right down the street.

"Thank you very much sir", she told him, and turned around to head to the shop. It was pretty close, and she peered into the window before entering. Professor McGonagall wasn't there. She would be vexed, for sure. Hermione made her way into the shop anyway, guessing that she would wait for the Professor to show up later on.

The shop was small, and quiet, but Hermione guessed that the room behind the main desk was much larger. It had shelves of boxes, presumably filled with wands. She leaned over the desk to get a closer look at the wand boxes. She also noticed that one side of the shelf had been damaged, as if hit by a bowling ball. In front of the damaged desk, there was a shower of glass pieces, as if someone had shattered a glass vase.

At that moment, a short man entered the main desk from somewhere behind. Hermione almost fell back in surprise, she hadn't heard him coming at all.

"Well, well. Who might you be, young miss?" He asked.

"My name's Hermione Granger. I've lost someone and I would like to find her."

"Well, actually this is not a lost and found. It's a wand shop, and rather obviously so, I think", the man tilted his head to one side, he tried to recall her but determined that he'd never seen her before. She was new, probably a Muggle born who had lost her parents. He knew most of the wizarding families like the back of his wand hand.

"It's just that this was where we were supposed to be coming before I lost her. Her name is Minerva McGonagall and I know that she works for the school Hogwarts", Hermione explained, "She said that I needed to get myself a wand for school."

The man burst into laughter, "Ah yes, she did come here. She spoke to herself for a few minutes before realizing that no one was following her. When she realized you were missing she seemed to pale and she went back out to find you."

"Ah", Hermione winced, "then maybe I should have stayed back there at the bookshop…'

"That you should have, young miss. But while you're here, why don't we pick out a wand for you? Minerva should be back, once she remembers that she told you she was taking you here. You seem to be a rather bright young girl, and she would know that."

"Alright then. How do I choose a wand?" Hermione asked, "I haven't read anything about them, actually."

"The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Granger, there is no choosing to be done on your behalf", he walked up to a shelf and drew out a small, thin, black box, "Let's try this first. I'd like it if you pointed at the floor. My previous customer was a wonderful young man, very famous too, but he ruined most of my wand shelves, as you can see", he opened the box and pulled out a light beige wand.

Hermione took the rod and pointed it at the floor. Nothing happened.

"Well you have to wave it, dear", Ollivander encouraged. She swished and flicked the wand just as Malfoy had shown her, at the floor. Nothing happened.

"Well, let's try another one then", as she laid the wand back on his desk, he reached for another box, this time climbing a staircase to get it, "This one should be alright", he handed her a thicker, dark wand. She took it from him and waved it at the floor with more vigor. The tile cracked. Very loudly.

"I'm very sorry sir", she said as she gingerly placed it back on his desk.

"it's quite alright, I'm quite used to it. There's always a handful of you every year…" He disappeared behind shelves for a moment only to emerge with another wand, "This one is elm wood, it should be perfect since it's very conductive to magic."

He handed her the Elm wand and she waved it at the floor. Another tile broke, this time the broken fragments flew up across the room to lodge themselves into the wall. Very conductive indeed.

"I'm sorry, I should have known better. Let's find you a different one", Ollivander seemed to be losing confidence now. He had always gotten it on the third try…

Two more wands (which did absolutely nothing) later, Hermione was feeling rather guilty at taking so much of his time. This time, Ollivander took a little longer choosing the wand. In fact, he spent an entire five minutes sitting in the back wondering if his talent for finding them was slowly growing weaker with his old age. His previous two customers, the very famous Harry Potter and the very well-known Draco Malfoy, had both taken much longer. Harry Potter had been an enigma, destroying half his store before finding the wand that had been destined to rest in his hands. Draco Malfoy had complained about the quality of everything he'd brought out. Picky brat.

Once he was finished with self-pity, he browsed the shelves with renewed self-encouragement.

"This one was made with a goblin tooth core, very tough and strong. It should be good for you", he handed it to her gingerly and she pointed it at the floor again. This time the dirt flew upwards.

Once he was finished wiping the dirt off his face, he got back to work while Hermione watched him guiltily. He arrived almost ten minutes later with another wand.

"I've analyzed the reactions provided by each wand so that I could try new materials each time, and now I think this one is it." He took out a long slender wand made of dark wood, "this one is vine wood, and the interior is made of dragon heartstring."

She took it from him carefully, and examined it before using it. _Please let this be the one, it's so very pretty and I really want to have a pretty wand. _She pointed it at the floor and waved it a little, with the swish and flick technique. Suddenly she felt very light, almost airy. It was a wonderful feeling.

"Ah, it looks like I haven't lost my touch after all", Ollivander sighed. His shop was half ruined and it had a dirt floor, his clothes were messy, his face was dirty and there was a pile of wands on his desk that he would have to sort out, but at least he'd found the girl a wand.

At that moment, Minerva McGonagall burst into the shop.

"There you are! Troublesome girl, do you know how worrying it is to lose a Muggle-born in Diagon Alley? I was ripping my hair out! And…may I ask what happened to Mr. Ollivander's shop?"

Hermione was much too pleased at seeing Professor McGonagall once again. Now everything was all right.

"Look Professor, I've got a wand!"


	3. Magic That Can do Anything

**Chapter 3**

The rest of their shopping went by uneventfully. Hermione told Professor McGonagall about the boy she had met at the coffee shop, and how she really wanted to be in Ravenclaw. Professor McGonagall told her that Lucius Malfoy worked at the Ministry, and that it really didn't matter which house she was in. When she had almost the entire list bought, they passed by a shop that sold animals.

"Miss Granger, would you like to buy an owl? There isn't enough left on your Ministry funding but I'm sure we can speak with your parents", McGonagall suddenly mentioned.

"What would I need an owl for? Apart from sending messages, of course", she glanced up at the taller lady curiously.

The professor stared back, "what else can an owl do? It makes a nice pet, and it sends messages, that is all."

"Then I don't need one", Hermione reassured her.

"You don't want to send messages to your parents?"

"I don't need an owl to do that. I'm going to have my very own mobile phone. My parents originally told me I had to wait until I was sixteen, but they said I can get it early so that I can call them every day", she grinned widely and skipped by the Familiar Shop.

"A 'mobile-phone'? What is that?" The older woman asked her curiously. She'd heard vaguely of them, of course, but their actual purpose was beyond her.

Hermione looked at the professor curiously. She'd never heard of a mobile? Really? But…then she looked around her. The shop she was in was built out of wooden walls, and the man at the desk counted out the purchasing money by hand. No cash-register… it was all very curious. She turned back to McGonagall, "Professor, why does it seem like this place has no technology?"

"Technology? I have heard of that, at least. I believe that's what Muggles use as a replacement for magic", she thought for a moment, "we have magic to supply our needs, so we don't need the other contraptions."

For a moment, Hermione's world shattered. These people had no _technology_? How was she supposed to survive? No TV and no Internet and not even any toasters? That sounded downright horrible.

"But then how do you share information?" She asked, still horrified.

"Well, for the common information on what's happening in the world we use the newspaper, the Daily Prophet. And then there are always owls, and letters, and to large estates we can always use paintings", McGonagall told her. Hermione gave her a weird look, "you have to read the _newspaper _everyday?"

"Well, yes."

"That sounds dreadful. 'Muggles' have the World Wide Web, and news on TV. We can listen to the world news while we eat our breakfast. The Wizarding World doesn't sound that powerful if you can't even use electricity", she told her honestly.

Minerva McGonagall felt the hit. She was a pureblood herself, and although she respected Muggles, they could not better her. She told herself to calm down, and that Hermione was only a little girl and didn't know any better. In fact, the fact that the girl was so attached to technology baffled her. Most young muggle-borns severed all ties to the muggle world once they left, preferring by far the magical world they'd only heard of in fantasy books. This girl was strange, she seemed to praise the 'tecknology' even though she'd seen the power of magic. Very curious.

"Well, let's continue shopping for your owl, alright?" To be honest, Minerva McGonagall was already tired. She'd spent the first half of the day searching for the little brat once she'd disappeared, and the second half surviving the shopping trip while the annoying girl aspired to ask at least two questions about everything she came across.

Hermione nodded and watched as the professor took the bags filled with school supplies out of her hands and shrunk them to the size of peanuts with a flick of her wand. She looked on curiously, seeing the law of conservation of mass seemingly violated for the very first time. Of course, there was always the possibility that it was being converted into air…

"Can you shrink me too?"

"No, I wouldn't recommend it. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering…"

They finished the rest of the shopping and apparated back to Hermione's house. Hermione carried her new things proudly as Minerva rang the doorbell.

"Oh, you two are back, come in. We've been having a great time with Arthur here, he's very…interested by everything", Fred Granger welcomed them inside. He lead them to the living room, where Arthur Weasley was pressing buttons on the TV remote.

"…and what are these 'electrons' exactly?" he asked Hermione's mother.

"Well, they're tiny particles. They carry a negative charge, so when they flow through a circuit, they leave positively charged atoms behind them, creating a flow of positive charge that starts at the battery's cathode and runs toward the anode", she explained to the fascinated Wizard.

"I see…so this flowing of the positive charge is what makes the blub light up? Then why isn't the entire wire glowing?"

"Well no. The flowing of the charge creates a pressure so that when you tightly coil one part of the conductor, all the electrons are fighting to get through it such a small space and the energy they release turns into light. I suppose that's a very simple way of explaining it. There's a tightly coiled part of the wire in the tip of the light bulb. You should really ask an electrical engineer if you want to full version", Hermione added in. Mr. Weasley turned to look at her with a delighted look, "so even your children learn these things? Amazing…"

"They only learn them in high school really, but Hermione loves learning, she researches the subject herself and learns it before she's taught it in school", Monica Granger explained.

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, "well it's nice to see that you're enjoying yourself Mr. Weasley but I hope you did explain everything to the Grangers like you were supposed to."

"I did, actually. They had many questions about our government and way of life. I also informed them of the Secrecy Law, and they are willing to abide by it", he explained in a business-like voice.

"Good. Well, we have to leave now Arthur. There's a new trial scheduled for this evening and I'm leading it. Hermione, I hope you enjoy your time at Hogwarts. Make sure you catch your train on time. Goodbye Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it was nice to meet you both."

And for the second time, Professor McGonagall disappeared, hoping with all her heart that the annoying muggleborn girl didn't end up in her charge as a Gryffindor.

"Well. She was a nice lady", Hermione commented, "I do hope I'll see her again sometime."

"I hope you didn't give her any trouble Mione", her father added. She gave him a smile, having pushed the incident of her getting lost out of her mind, "not at all. I even met someone who'll also be going to Hogwarts."

"Really?" Her mother asked. It was about time she made friends.

"A boy named Draco Malfoy. He was studying for potions class before school even began. I'll have to ask to borrow his books sometime", she told them.

"Potions? What kind of classes will you be talking?"

Hermione took out a timetable from the envelope her acceptance letter had come in, "First there's a class called 'History of Magic' by Professor Binns, and then there's a class called 'Flying' with a Madame Hooch…"

"What about Maths and Languages and the Sciences? Does Hogwarts teach that? I'm starting to think we'll need to put you in private tutoring as well as summer school when you return for summers, if they don't teach you the important academia", her father complained.

"Yes I'll probably have to. I won't stop studying while I'm there either, you can send me books online and I can read them on my laptop. But you know, they seem to be a very primitive civilization for all their magic. They don't have TVs or toasters or mobiles, they don't have any technology whatsoever. When I asked Professor McGonagall, she told me that technology was something Muggles used to do things without magic", she told them. To her eyes, a civilization in the twenty-first century that didn't even have any mobile phones was pitiful.

"Why haven't any of the other Muggle Born Wizards and Witches changed that then?" Her father asked. Hermione shrugged, "I think I have a theory. They probably left behind all their knowledge about the Muggle world when they were introduced to magic. They start school at the age of eleven you see. At eleven, they wouldn't know much about technology anyway. And then they get assimilated into wizarding society and forget their Muggle heritage", she explained.

"Well then it's a good thing a smart little girl like you is going, now isn't it? Maybe you could change something", her father got up, and ruffled her hair on the way out of the room, "I'm going to water the lawn. Don't start studying too hard."

Change something…Hermione sat there for a moment, thinking. She'd always dreamed of BIG things. Would integrating advanced technology with powerful magic be considered a BIG thing? Definitely. Maybe…

But for now she would concentrate on actually getting to Hogwarts.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

After spending days practicing basic spells from her new school books (without actually doing them), Hermione and her father rushed to the train station.

"Platform 9 and _Three Quarters?_" Hermione exclaimed, "where am I supposed to find three-quarters of a platform?"

Her father, shrugged, "I have no clue dear. That man, , mentioned something about running through a wall but I wasn't paying attention to him. He was in danger of electrocuting himself with the way he was playing with those plugs. Let's ask at the information desk", he walked over to the nearest information desk and turned to the man inside, "excuse me sir, can you tell us where platform nine and three quarters is?"

The man inside looked at him strangely, "nine and three quarters? Would you like to go to platform nine? It's right over there."

"No sir, we need nine and _three quarters_."

"Come again?"

"Our guide told us to get on platform nine and _three quarters_. It's on the ticket see."

"There's no such thing. There are, however, people in line behind you."

"Why not try asking on of the managers? It says it right here on the ticket."

The man inspected the ticket, "I've never seen a ticket like this before, you've been duped. Now move so I can help the man behind you", he pointed the way out and Hermione's father reluctantly walked away.

"How rude…"

"Maybe it's a wizard thing that the information people here don't know about. 's life aside, you really should have paid attention", Hermione suggested. Her father thought about it, "you're probably right, however that won't help _us _find it. Should be more convenient to find the bloody train."

They looked around the busy station. There were fast food restaurants down one side, for takeout. On the far end were stairs that lead out of the station. Platform nine was on the right of them, marked by a tall stone pillar that looked fully solid. Platform ten was to their left, also marked by a tall stone pillar. There was no platform between them, and not even enough space for a car to land three quarters down the middle. Suddenly a voice caught their attention.

"Hurry up son, nine and three quarters is right this way. We've got ten minutes till the train leaves."

Hermione's turned suddenly to find that the voice came from an old lady, gesturing towards a small boy holding something green and slimy in one hand, and pushing a trolley just like the one Hermione had with the other hand. She turned her own trolley to follow them.

"Dad they said something about-"

"Yes I heard, follow them."

They sped up to catch up to the old lady and young boy, when it seemed like they were about to disappear behind a pillar, Hermione's father ran ahead and waved at them frantically. Finally, the boy noticed him and him and the stern-looking old lady waited until he caught up. After catching his breath in front of her, he waited for Hermione to catch up with them with her trolley.

"Ma'am, you mentioned platform nine and three quarters, my daughter is trying to get there but we don't know where it is", he explained. The old lady understood.

"Oh, you're a Muggle then. Not to worry, I'll send her along with my Neville", she gestured at the pillar.

"But…where is it?"

"There's a portal to it inside the pillar that wizards and witches can go through. Just watch my Neville do it", she went over to the boy, who she could now see was holding some type of frog.

"In you go Neville, a slight run is best. Wait for the girl once you're there and show her into the train."

The boy nodded, stole a glance at Hermione, and then ran towards the pillar, speeding up a little at the end. He went right through it. Hermione's father ran over to the other side of the pillar to inspect it, and gained a curiously fascinated expression when he found the other side to be solid.

The old lady half-smiled, "oh Muggles, they're all so excited about everything. Like little children. In you go child. What's your name?"

"Hermione Granger, ma'am", she replied.

"Well then Hermione, start far from the pillar, and then run at it fast, and you'll go right through. Don't hesitate at the end", she instructed sharply. Hermione nodded, and waved at her father. He gave her a thumbs-up and stood sideways toward to platform so he could see how she went through.

She turned her trolley parallel towards the wall, and started slowly, just as she'd watched Neville do. Then she sped up. For a second she thought about stopping, because she might crash, but decided in another second that it wouldn't hurt too much. To her utter surprise, the trolley sank into the wall as if it were a spoon going through pudding. She followed it though, smiling in exhilaration as she reached the other side.

The boy from before, Neville, was waiting for her.

"You can put your things right there. Don't worry about putting them in order, apparently they'll all get sorted out properly once we reach Hogwarts", he said hesitantly. He had a strange accent. Somewhat Scottish, but softer. She nodded and unloaded her trolley into the compartment on the side of the train, keeping the small messenger bag with her Hogwarts uniform robes with her. Then she turned to join him.

"So you're going to Hogwarts too? Are you in your first year? You're Neville, right? My name's Hermione Granger", she fired off questions at the boy.

He smiled, "Yeah, I'm going too. I'm in my first year, and it's my first time there. It's Neville Longbottom. We should get on the train, there's only five minutes before it leaves."

He gestured her into the train, and they sat in the first empty train car they could find. As soon as they were seated, the train whistle rang, and the train lurched forward.

"So we're allowed to use magic now, aren't we?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, but we've got to learn it first", Neville told her, "the first spells we'll be doing will probably be in Charms or Transfiguration."

"Oh I've studied a few of them already. I just want to try them out", she took out her long wand from the side of her jeans and pointed it at the window. She turned it around and then flicked it down, "lumos!" To her surprise, nothing happened.

"Lumos. Lumos. Lumos", she stared, irritated, at her wand, "why won't it work?"

"It's because you haven't learned how to do it yet. If you did, then anyone could learn a spell just by reading it and then saying it out loud, and we wouldn't need Hogwarts", he explained, "that's why most wizarding families don't teach their children many spells before they get to school. Doing a spell requires more than waving your wand and saying the words, you have to learn how to channel your magic into it, its in the intent. And it's different for every spell, which is why we learn one spell at a time. The more advanced wizards usually find patterns in spell-saying, and they can usually use new spells for a first time because they're so used to it. But we need to start at the basics of wand waving and such", he explained.

Hermione looked at him with an impressed look on her face, "so I won't be able to learn Lumos until I get to Hogwarts?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Light spells and basic repairing spells aren't too hard. You just need practice", he told her.

"Can you do it?" She asked, curious.

"No, and I don't want to try. My grandma says that I haven't got very good control so I won't risk it until I get to Hogwarts", he smiled sheepishly.

Hermione grinned, and pointed her wand again. She concentrated on imagining light coming out of it, "Lumos"; she waved again, "Lumos."

After a few more unsuccessful tries, Hermione put her wand down, a little dejected.

"It's alright, not many people can actually do these things so soon, not even Wizarding children. Since you're a Muggleborn it might take sometime-"

"I'll have it down on my first day", Hermione pronounced, "I've never been at an intellectual disadvantage before and I'm not going to start. I'm going to learn it properly as soon as we get to Hogwarts."

Neville winced at her indignation but stayed silent. For the next half an hour, the two of them were engaged in a discussion about what Hermione had read in _Hogwarts: A History_, and what Neville had been told about the school from his grandmother.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" She finally asked.

"I don't know, but maybe Gryffindor. Both my parents were in Gryffindor", he said thoughtfully. Hermione frowned. From what Malfoy had told her, and from the conclusions she had come to herself, Gryffindor were stupid and Hufflepuffs were all soft.

"Are you sure you want to be in Gryffindor?" Hermione asked him, "I haven't heard many good things about the house."

"There are good things about every house. That's what my gran says. The sorting hat picks students by their good attributes, and not their bad ones", Neville explained, "Gryffindor are brave and they value friendship and courage above all, and Hufflepuffs have unfaltering loyalty. They'd sacrifice anything for the people they love."

"Neither of those sounds very Hermione-like", she told him truthfully.

"Well that's ok. Maybe you'll end up in Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws are valued in their intelligence, Rowena Ravenclaw was a scholar after all. Or maybe…maybe you'll get Slytherin. I know that…well…all the dark wizards seem to come from Slytherin, but my gran says I shouldn't judge. She said that the good attributes of Slytherins are that they are extremely ambitious, and smart. It's just that sometimes ambition kind of leads to the dark side, and well, we can't really help that. I won't judge Slytherin house as a whole though, even though people tell me my parents kind of did", he finished.

Hermione thought about it, but then she realized another thing he had said.

"Dark wizards? What are Dark Wizards?"

"People like You Know Who. People who started studying dark magic, magic that's illegal."

"Who's 'You Know Who'?"

"You don't know? Oh right, you were brought up in a muggle family. You Know Who is what we call the last dark wizard. He tried to take over the wizarding world, and kill muggle-borns. It doesn't happen anymore though", he told her when she started to look startled, "now muggle-borns are treated as equals. But back when he was around, not even Albus Dumbledore could stop him. But then he killed the Potter family, and for some reason, the Potter's son, Harry, managed to do something to kill him. Even thought he was only one year old. You Know Who died after leaving him with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. My gran told me that story all the time, because there was so much celebrating when he was finally killed. You see…my parents were…killed by him."

"I'm so sorry", she said, a distressed expression on her face.

"It's alright, I know they died for a brave cause. I'm proud of them. But you know, the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, he's coming to Hogwarts this year."

"What! Where is he?" She asked, excited. She was extremely curious about him, "and how could a baby kill someone?"

"I'll show you who he is when we I see him. And no one knows how he killed You Know Who. It's a mystery. Anyway, I can't wait to be sorted. Different houses don't usually talk to each other but I hope we can stay friends", he said sheepishly.

Hermione grinned, "I'd thought all this house stuff was stupid from the beginning. Of course we can, I don't really care. I want to be a Ravenclaw, because I've always loved learning. Someday, I'll go back to university and study nanotechnology and make great inventions."

"Study _what?_ That sounds like a very Slytherin ambition. But Slytherins are all purebloods anyway, you'll probably be sorted into Ravenclaw for sure if you're that passionate."

"What's a pure-"

She was cut off when a slimy green ball landed on her lap. Hermione squealed, beside herself. The only frogs she had seen were the ones in her garden in the springtime, and she stayed far away from them. But this one was _huge_. Almost the size of both her fists put together.

"Frog!" She jumped up.

"He's a toad, actually. Just stay calm. Come on boy, don't disturb her", Neville held his hands out and the toad jumped back into them. Hermione eyed the creature, and then settled back into her seat.

"Sorry, I've never liked frogs-I mean toads. I decided not to get a pet. I don't really like pets. I mean, cats seem rather nice but I can't imagine getting anything else", she told him.

Suddenly a lady stopped outside their compartment door.

"Would either of you two like anything?" It was a lady pushing a cart filled with what seemed to be candy.

"No thank you, I don't eat candy", Hermione answered. The lady turned to Neville.

He shrugged, "gran told me not to spend anything on candy. So no thank you." He turned back to Hermione as she walked to the next compartment, "you don't eat candy? Who doesn't eat candy?"

"Well I'll take sweets at parties and when someone brings them over, but I don't usually eat them. Both my parents are dentists", she explained.

"Poor you. I love candy. My gran doesn't keep any in the house though…by the way, you should go change into your robes. I changed into mine back at the station. A few of the muggles looked at me weirdly."

"Yeah, I should. Which way are the changing rooms?"

"There aren't any, the students change in the restrooms. They're right down there", he pointed down one side of the train and Hermione gathered her messenger bag and walked down that way. She reached an area with restroom stalls on one side and knocked on one with a lady's sign before she entered. When she stepped inside, she gasped. What had looked like a small stall on the outside was huge on the inside. On one side there was an actual restroom, with a few girls standing in front of the mirrors. On the other side were changing stalls. She entered one and emptied her bag. The uniform robes consisted of a long sleeved button-up shirt under a vest, and a knee-length skirt over knee-high socks. Over it all was a long cloak, which she supposed was for the winter and fall, when it got cold. She changed into the uniform and took her messenger bag with her back to the compartment. When she got back, Neville was reading one of the year's textbooks.

"Have you read all of them yet?"

"No, gran and me went shopping last-moment so I had no time. And they're for the school year anyway. I don't think I really need to", he replied, looking away from the book.

"I read all of them just in case. I don't want to be at a further disadvantage because I've never seen any magic before. It's bad enough already", she explained. He looked at her strangely.

"Hogwarts starts everything from the beginning, You don't even need to know anything about magic before you start there. You won't be at a disadvantage", he smiled.

"Well that's nice to hear…"

Suddenly the train whistle rang.

_All Students gather the belongings you have within your compartments and step out of the train in a single file. We have reached Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Ignoring the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach, Hermione stepped out of the cabin and followed the other students out of the train.

"What was pulling the carts?"

"They pull themselves, I guess."

They had just stepped out of the carts that lead all the first years to the school.

"That's it, over there. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", he pointed to the castle.

Hermione gasped in amazement. It was huge, made of pure gray stone with the occasional brick lining. There were two major buildings, connected by a stone bridge. On each corner, and one of middle sides, there were large, thin, towers sticking out of the stone, with windows on every side. Down lower, one of the sides had an open area with a roof, and field grounds. To the left of the castle, trees got denser and denser, until they had formed a thick forest made of trees with no leaves. To the right of the forest was a large lake, which they could barely see the end of.

"It's beautiful. The architecture is amazing", she breathed, "When they said Hogwarts _castle, _it somehow never occurred to me that it would be an actual, traditionally-styled castle…I can't believe I'm going to study here."

"I know, right?"

The awed first years were interrupted by a straggly man with a cat. His shoulder length hair started halfway down his scalp (he hadn't even bothered attempting a comb-over), and his clothes looked ragged. He carried a stick in one hand, and his cat in another.

"Come with me, ye brats", he gestured to follow him and turned around to walk to the castle.

"He isn't very nice is he?" She whispered to Neville.

"That's the caretaker. I think his name is Argus Filch. Gran told me to stay away from his cat", he whispered back.

"Well I'm not going anywhere near it", Hermione followed the other students as they trudged after the caretaker, tired from walking all the way. She usually liked cats, but this one just looked scary. She felt like it was watching her the entire time. It took another fifteen minutes for them to reach the castle, and they were greeted by Minverva McGongall, who looked tall and imposing in her professor's robes. Hermione thought of giving her a friendly wave, but she supposed the older woman was trying to convey a look of seriousness. She took them inside.

Once inside the castle, they were lead up a flight of stairs. Hermione looked around and was glad to see that the other first years were just as nervous as she was. Most of them looked extremely intimidated.

Professor McGonagall stopped once they reached the top and turned to face them.

"Welcome, first years, to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You may address me as professor McGonagall, and I will see you during your transfiguration lessons. In a few minutes, we will walk into the Great Hall, where you will all be sorted one by one. Once you are sorted, you will take a seat at your house table, and we will begin the welcome feast after a speech by the headmaster."

"There are over seventy of us, this process will take forever. They should make another sorting hat to speed up the process and be more efficient", she whispered to Neville. He giggled at her misunderstanding of what the sorting hat was.

They had to stay there, until the doors to the Great Hall were opened. To her right, she saw Draco, but he was talking to another student so she didn't interrupt him. Instead, she watched him. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but she could tell that he was introducing himself to one of the other students, a boy with short black hair. After a little while, he held out a hand, but the boy didn't take it. _That's rude…_

She stopped watching Draco and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach instead as she waited for the sorting.


	4. And It's Gryffindor

**For the purposes of the story, the alphabetical order of the sorting will go by first name instead of last name. **

**Chapter 4**

_Why on earth am I so nervous? It's just a House after all, it's not like I'm waiting for my application status to university. I'm going to be able to study here no matter what house I'll be in. Oh but what if I get sorted into Hufflepuff? What Draco Malfoy think? He's the only person who looks like somewhat intelligent company…I don't even have anything to be loyal _to _at the moment…ok there's no way I'll be a Hufflepuff. Phew. But what about a Gryffindor? Rationally speaking, most forms of bravery are forms of either loyalty or stupidity. Isn't that even worse? Wasn't Draco against that as well? What would dad think if he found out I was one of those stupid, reckless people that charged into things without thinking and keeping a clear mind? That would be horrible… Slytherin is fine by me because I'm ambitious, but oh please let me get Ravenclaw…_

Her thoughts were interrupted when the huge doors of the Great Hall slowly swung open, and the four lines of people seated at tables with different color schemes all clapped for the new arrivals. McGonagall gestured to them and they all followed her into the Hall, down the middle carpet and stopped at the very front as one big group.

At the front, an old man with a long white beard stood up and walked to the pedestal. Somehow, even though he looked old, he gave off a feeling of power and strength. She recognized him from the books. Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore. She decided that when she became a strong, famous witch, she would add as many middle names to her own name as he had. It seemed to be more intimidating.

_Hermione Jean Edyth Cecilia Granger, _she decided.

"Welcome, young witches and wizards, to Hogwarts. For our first years, we will first sort them into their respective houses", he took out a long scroll and unrolled it, reading the first name, "Adam Foster, will you please proceed to the front."

A small boy with mousy brown hair stepped up to the front, where McGonagall placed the sorting hat on his head. The hat moved.

"Neville! The hat, it's alive!" She exclaimed in a whisper. He nodded, amused that she didn't know, even after reading _Hogwarts: A History._

The hat took on a 'thinking' face, biting its lip and looking up. After a small while, it turned back to the students and yelled, "Hufflepuff!"

The boy, Adam, triumphantly jumped out of the chair as the hat was removed, walking over to a cheering table of Hufflepuffs. Hermione watched the hat curiously as it sorted a few more students. It seemed to be somehow reading the minds and lives of its students. She shivered.

"Cristie Knight!"

A girl walked up. She looked completely terrified, and after a while the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table clapped like mad. Hermione tuned herself out as ten more students were sorted, lost in her own thoughts. But she snapped back when a familiar name was called.

"Draco Malfoy!"

Draco walked up to the hat, nowhere near as scared or intimidated or nervous as the other students. He looked completely at ease, and had a smirk on his face when the hat yelled out "Slytherin" before it was even fully on his head. As he walked towards the table of Slytherins, Hermione promised herself that she would look just as dignified while being sorted.

A few students later, another familiar name came up, and she snapped to full attention.

"Harry Potter!"

The student body all murmured quietly as he walked up. He didn't look very different, and she supposed his scar was mostly hidden by his bangs. His hair was black, and he had very deep green eyes that were hid behind round glasses. Apart from that, he looked like an average boy, if somewhat scrawny. The boy who killed the last dark wizard. She decided that she'd get to know him later, he was interesting.

The sorting hat took a long time with him. Longer than Adam, and a little longer that Cristie. She also noticed that he seemed to be whispering something to it, maybe he was trying to get it to put him in the house he wanted. She took note, maybe she could try to convince it to put her in Ravenclaw.

After a while, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" The Gryffindor table burst into applause. She watched him as he walked over. He was definitely someone interesting. But he was a Gryffindor…

Right after him, another name was called.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione walked up without a fault in her step, trying to achieve the poise Draco had displayed. She silently smiled to herself when it seemed like she had done it. The butterflies were completely gone from her stomach, and she felt perfectly calm, and prepared, just like the moment before a piano recital when you realize it makes no sense to worry whether you do badly or not, because the act of worrying never changed anything. McGonagall placed the hat on her head. _It's kind of heavy…_

"Oh you think I'm heavy do you? Well I'm so sorry for your delicate head", she managed to control her shock at the sarcastic hat's talking. She had heard it say things like that for the other students too, but it felt so different when it was talking while on top of her head. Some of the other students were laughing, it had said that very loudly. It was also currently messing up her hair, and god knew her hair was bad enough already. She swallowed her exasperation and set herself to the task of convincing a Hat.

"Ravenclaw ravenclaw ravenclaw ravenclaw ravenclaw", she whispered it over and over, silent enough that only the hat could hear it.

"Ravenclaw eh?" Thankfully the hat was quiet enough that no one else could hear it but her, "you really think so? Well, you've got a lot of Ravenclaw in you, but I was thinking of something else. Although most students tell me what they don't want to be in."

"Not Gryffindor not Gryffindor not Gryffindor…maybe even Slytherin but not Gryffindor…"

She could almost feel the Hat smirking on top of her messy hair, "oh yes I saw that little encounter with Draco Malfoy you had. You poor innocent thing, you really are quite clueless."

"Ravenclaw Ravenclaw Ravenclaw…listen Mr. Hat, I was almost born with a book in my hands, I should be in Ravenclaw. There's really no other choices available if you can see so clearly into my head. I'd like to know how you are doing that, by the way. Where can I find you once this is over?"

In the midst of the sorting, some other thoughts were running through her head. One of them being _how on earth someone has given life to a HAT._

The Hat chuckled, "That's not something for you to know, little girl. Alright then. You're not nearly the hardest I've had to sort but you have a few interesting variations. It's true that you were probably born a swot, but there are other things to consider. For instance, I see a time where you protected a few other children in your class from a bully that you were rather scared of. Very Gyffindor of you. And all this ambition…you wish to change the Wizarding World with technology? Very Slytherin of you. It's too bad your potential will be destroyed if I attempt to put you there."

"Are you saying I can't be a Ravenclaw? Then what's wrong with Slytherin? Please just put me there, I just want to be with other people who are serious about learning…"

"I have already made my decision. You will be in…_Gryffindor!"_

Hermione took the Hat off with a feeling of dread, even as the Gryffindor table clapped enthusiastically. Her walk to the table wasn't nearly as poised as before, she almost tripped over her own shoes. Her first chance to impress a potential friend was ruined, and she was in a House of stupid brave people. All she wanted to do was bury her head in a pillow and cry herself to sleep.

She sat down at the table beside a red-haired boy, and without looking up she placed her head in her arms and tried to block out the sound of the rest of the sorting. Vaguely, she heard Neville get sorted into Gryffindor as well, but she was too depressed to form an opinion.

A few names later, she felt a nudge on her shoulder. She looked up cautiously and found a dark haired boy carefully tapping her arm to get her attention.

"Are you alright? You don't look good…"

It was Harry Potter, the boy who had killed a Dark Wizard at the age of one. At the moment, Hermione found that she couldn't care less if he had taken over the world.

"I'm fine. I'm just tired. Leave me alone", she placed her head back in her hands.

The boy stayed silent for a few moments, and then patted her shoulder again, "the feast will start soon. The sorting is over, and the Headmaster is giving his speech. You may want to be awake for that."

Reluctantly, Hermione looked up from where she had been buried in her arms. It was true; the man in the long white beard was standing at the podium and talking. She only heard the very end of his speech.

"…and I would advise any student who values their life to stay out of the third floor. That is all, and let the feast begin."

A few more thoughts ran through her head, one of being being something along the lines of _reverse psychology._

Suddenly large platters of food began to appear at the table. The boy to her left immediate starting piling mini-potatoes and chicken and, well, even more chicken, onto his plate. She watched for a while, feeling absolutely disgusted, and then turned to the empty plate in front of her.

"So…what is your name?" Harry Potter asked. She turned to give him a glare. The stupid boy couldn't take a hint. She looked back at the plate in front of her.

"I don't really remember it from when professor McGonagall announced it. Was it Hernie? Harriet?"

"Hermione. Hermione Granger", she said between gritted teeth. It would be nice if he'd shut up, now that her school life was almost ruined, "and you're Harry Potter. Don't bother introducing yourself, most people already know you."

The boy smiled sheepishly, "yes, I've noticed. It's a little unnerving. I didn't know I was famous before I came here…"

At this, she looked up curiously, a little of her depression fading.

"How did you not know? There are stories written about you, you're a hero."

"I've never read them. I don't even know anything about the Wizarding World, I was raised by muggles. My aunt and uncle", he explained. Hermione quickly regained her depression, temporary interest gone. She had no use for an acquaintance that didn't know about magical lifestyles. It wouldn't be beneficial in any way.

"While you recite the rest of your biography, I hope you don't mind me not listening", she pushed her plate aside and put her head down on the table again, angling her ears so that they blocked out most of the sound of students munching. It wasn't a very nice sound anyway.

It felt horrible. Too late, she realized that she'd already associated the term 'Ravenclaw' with 'smart' and any other house with 'not smart'. Why was this happening to her? Hadn't she won enough science fairs? Hadn't she beat enough people at chess? Did she not have the greatest academic record of any eleven year old on Britain? Why was it that timid, stupid looking Lena Borges had gotten the house she wanted? Wasn't she smart enough?

It wasn't soon before she felt the next pat on her shoulder, and looked up into those annoying green eyes.

"What is it _this _time?"

"It's been a long trip. I though you might want to eat something", Harry Potter said hesitantly. He was presenting a plate carefully piled with an equal mix of chicken and vegetables, and beside it, a small desert plate with a neat slice of plum cake. She looked at the plate. Then up at the boy. Then back to the plate.

What was it with this boy? Why didn't he turn around and speak to the red-haired boy who was trying to get his attention? Why on earth did he bother to fill a dinner plate for someone whose name he barely knew? Reluctantly, she picked up a fork and began picking at the chicken breast, mumbling a quick thank you in his direction.

After a while, he spoke again, "you seemed really sad."

She looked at him curiously, fork halfway to her mouth, "pardon?"

"I said you seemed really sad. I just wanted to know why. Did you not get the House you wanted?"

"No, I did not", she responded tartly, focusing on her food.

"Um…which house did you want to get into?"

"Ravenclaw", she replied immediately, "but I'd have been happy with Slytherin."

"Why? Are you from a pureblood family? Will they be angry with you?" This time it was the red-haired one who spoke. With a mouthful of chocolate mousse. She barely held herself from crinkling her nose.

"What's a 'pureblood family'? Neville mentioned the term but I didn't get to ask him about it", she asked, turning to Harry Potter for the answer in order to maybe inspire the red-head to chew and swallow before he spoke. But Harry just shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Wasn't brought up with wizards."

"They're people who have four Wizarding grandparents", the red-head replied, thankfully after swallowing, "they call themselves purebloods 'cause they think that their blood is purer. They're the only ones who are sorted into Slytherin 'cause Salazar Slytherin was a pureblood and he didn't like 'tainted blood'."

Hermione spent a while processing this. Clearly, she wasn't a pureblood…she remembered the Hat's words clearly.

_It's too bad your potential will be destroyed if I attempt to put you there.  
_

Was that what it had been talking about? Did that mean…

"Do purebloods think they're better than everyone else?" She asked, dread growing.

"The Slytherin ones do. And the ones from most Ancient Houses", Ron replied, nose crinkled.

She swallowed nervously. There was still one other thing that lingered…and it would explain why Draco Malfoy had been able to cast Lumos so easily when she couldn't.

"…Are purebloods magically stronger?"

"Oh heavens no. Who told you that?" A new voice entered. It was the voice of another red-head, an older one. Unlike red-head number one, his robes were pressed and proper and his hair was cut short, "gaps in power among wizards and witches usually come from lack of knowledge and training. Purebloods aren't stronger, its just that the prejudiced ones believe they are."

"For once, Percy's right", hygienically-challenged red-head interjected, "you'll be fine here."

Hermione almost collapsed in relief. Knowing that she was inherently weaker…she didn't think that was a thought that she could live with.

"So I guess I couldn't be in Slytherin because I'm a muggleborn", she reasoned out loud. The two red-heads looked at her as if she was crazy.

"But why in the name of Merlin's checkered underpants would you want to be in Slytherin?" Messy red-head spluttered, "It's filled with stuck-up brats and snotty 'heirs'".

"It's true, it tends to be a house of blood-purists", Percy added, "you're better off here."

"Well then why couldn't I go to Ravenclaw?" She lamented all over again, "is it possible to arrange a re-Sorting? I refuse to accept this!"

They looked at her as if she was crazy. "I don't think Dumbledore would approve of that-"

"So I have to ask Dumbledore? Is that all? Does anyone know where he keeps the Sorting Hat?" She finished her vegetables with a determined look on her face, not bothering with the cake, "I suppose I'll just meet with him later. Where do I find him and how do I arrange an appointment?"

"No I don't know where he keeps the Hat…I don't know that either…or that…I suppose you could ask a teacher…" Percy had already given up and decided to let the headmaster handle her himself.

The rest of the food slowly disappeared as two students from each table stood up and addressed their house. The Gryffindor boy who was standing turned to look at each of them.

"All Gryffindors, please stand up and follow me to your dormitories", he told them in a loud voice. Hermione supposed that was the person who might know some things. She stood up and slid off the bench, making her way over to the older boy.

"Excuse me, do you know how I can meet with Headmaster Dumbledore?"

He looked at her, surprised. After a moment of silence, he replied, "you could…ask a teacher to escort you to his office…"

"Thank you, that's very helpful of you", she walked away and looked around until she spotted the lady with the tall hat, the last professor to make her way back to her rooms. Hermione elbowed a taller girl in the ribs, kicked someone in the shin, apologized for stepping on a _scary looking _older boy's foot, and finally made her way through the throng of students.

"Professor McGonagall!" She shouted. The lady in question spun around from where she had finished conversing with a Head Girl, face drooping when she recognized Hermione. She walked over and gave a dramatic sigh, "yes, Miss Granger?"

"Professor I would like to meet with the Headmaster", she replied confidently.

Minerva McGonagall's eyebrows rose so high they hid themselves in her receding hairline, "what on earth _for, _Miss Granger? It's almost seven o'clock and you should really be heading to your dormitory."

"Can I at least book an appointment? I really need to discuss something with him. And it's urgent", she stressed. The older woman's sighed again, "well I suppose we may as well go now. Follow me Miss Granger…"

She stepped down from the teacher's table area and followed the students out of the Hall, Hermione quick on her heels.

"Listen carefully Miss Granger, it is true that the Headmaster is a kind man and loves to see his students, but he is also a very busy man and doesn't like to be interrupted-"

"Oh I understand perfectly. He's got so many titles. Busy people always have titles. Someday I will get loads of titles as well. I won't disturb him for too long. It should be fairly quick", she assured her, "and do you mind explaining where we are going so I don't forget the way to the headmaster's office? In case I need to go visit again later?"

McGonagall groaned loudly and didn't reply.

A few minutes and a few rotating staircases later (_but professor, BOTH sides of the staircase move, so how it is attached to the castle? Is someone hiding below casting hovering charms-MAGIC, Miss Granger, MAGIC). _They were standing in front of a large gargoyle.

"Chocolate Pixies" McGonagall told the Gargoyle.

"Chocolate Pixies? Isn't that kind of incredibly unprofessional? It also seems rather unhealthy for someone of his senior age-"

"Enough chatter, Miss Granger. Go in. I'll be back in a few minutes to take you to your dorms. The headmaster will be with you shortly", with that, the professor stormed away, leaving her in front of a white spiral staircase. She stared at the staircase for a moment, and then went to stand inside. Immediately, it started moving, taking her upwards (which really shouldn't be possible on a swirling spiral staircase, if you thought about it).

On the top was an office. But it wasn't just an ordinary office. In place of a normal office desk was a giant structure of birch wood, upon which sat hundreds of shiny magical objects. On the walls were shelves of books and potions and strange items alike. And sitting in a hair-backed chair behind the desk was an old man with a long beard.

Hermione approached the low-backed visitor chair carefully. It was an obvious intimidation tactic used in business, the chairs. High backed chairs gave a sense of superiority, while low-backed ones were inferior in comparison. It was used by loads of people who wanted to establish their power, from managers to political leaders to kings to school Headmasters. It didn't help that this particular headmaster would look intimating even if he were dressed like a hobbit and stuffed into a dead fish. He just gave off that aura.

"Sit down, Miss Granger. I shouldn't offer you a sweet since I'm sure you've already enjoyed the delicacies our house elves can make, so would you like some tea?" He pushed his half-moon glasses further up his nose and looked at her with Knowledgeable and Wise eyes.

"No thank you, headmaster. I'm actually here because I would like to talk to the sorting hat", she sat down confidently in the low-backed chair, deciding that she would not be intimidated.

"The Sorting Hat?" His fuzzy eyebrows raised slightly, "are you displeased with your sorting, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, headmaster. I suspect that it isn't as good at these things as you think it is. Anyone would tell you that my life is centered on knowledge; I should obviously be in Ravenclaw. I don't know why it put me in Gryffindor. It doesn't make any sense. I'm not brave; I'm smart. I'm not a hero; I'm a logician. I would like to be re-Sorted."

For a while there was silence. Hermione was briefly afraid that she might have offended him, but she realized that the complaint was valid and she had delivered it in a nice way. The old man was watching her very carefully. Finally, he spoke.

"Miss Granger, exactly what have you heard about Gryffindor that makes you dislike it?"

"Well, I've heard that Gryffindors rush into things due to their bravery. I've read Hogwarts, A History and all the things Godric Gryffindor did, and honestly that's just not the person that I am", she explained. Oratory, she could do. She was good at that.

"What do you think bravery is, Miss Granger? Is it really always the action, the recklessness? Can't it be a manifestation of knowledge as well?" The half-moon glasses framed the blue eyes that peered at her.

"Bravery as a manifestation of knowledge? I don't understand…"

"Bravery is not simply recklessness, although you seem to merge the two terms. Bravery is a willingness to identify and act upon injustice, and to do this properly requires great knowledge. Sometimes, Miss Granger, intelligence can be ameliorated through action, and the willingness to use it."

"But-", Hermione felt like she was being convinced, brainwashed into believing something, "but I want to gain knowledge for it's own sake…"

"Did the Sorting hat offer you Slytherin? Do you know why?"

"Because I'm ambitious. But I didn't get into Slytherin because I'm a muggleborn", she replied.

The headmaster smiled, a twinkle in his eye, "yes, you have ambition. You see, you have the will to change something in the world, and that is a rare thing. Yes, you may have a thirst for knowledge, but you also want to do things with this knowledge. You have goals and visions. A Ravenclaw with ambition is most usually a Slytherin, and a Ravenclaw with ambition to change something for the greater good is most often a Gryffindor."

Hermione couldn't find words to say. An old man who looked rather frail while sitting was beating her in an argument, and he was convincing her as well…

"Do not worry too much about houses, my dear girl. Houses are only a general direction; they are not true indicators of everything your character is comprised of. You will do well in Gryffindor, you will realize your potential. What is important is that you remain loyal to your goals, and you will prosper. Once you leave, your House will only be a memory. Stay in Gryffindor, Miss Granger, you do not need to worry about these things", he smiled benevolently like all old people ought to smile and adjusted his half-moon glasses again.

She swallowed, and couldn't help but nod. His words had helped…she no longer felt bad about her Sorting. There was a lingering sense of discontent, but she squashed it down because she knew it was there because she lost an argument, and not because she really believed she ought to be in Ravenclaw.

"Well…thank you, Headmaster. I'll…stay in Gryffindor", she nodded to him awkwardly.

"That's wonderful. I very much hope that you enjoy life here at Hogwarts, Minerva tells me you seem like a very promising witch", he smiled again, "she is waiting for you downstairs at the moment. Goodbye, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded and got up, taking the swirling stairs that really shouldn't work that way down to see Professor McGonagall.

When she had settled in her dorm bed, she drew up her bed covers around her and practiced _lumos_ until she succeeded before falling asleep curled around her wand.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"A promising witch?" Minerva McGonagall practically yelled at the Headmaster, "we are going to rue the day we placed a wand into that girl's hands. Did you know she's brought a _mobile phone _with her?!"


	5. Concerning a Rather Large Dog

**Thank you for all the reviews! They encouraged me to type and edit this chapter much faster than usual. And to Dr Stranger: I got it covered ;)****  
**

**Chapter 5**

When Hermione woke up, she immediately realized that her set alarm was not ringing. The one she'd set on her mobile the previous night to wake her at precisely six o'clock. She jumped out of bed in a panic, dreading to imagine how late she was on her very first day, and thinking of different ways to murder a phone.

When she looked around the room, a curious sight greeted her. Two other girls, her roommates that she'd barely had time to meet the previous night when she'd gotten back to her room late and collapsed into bed, were sitting on the edge of her bed. Her phone was in their hands.

"What are you doing?" She demanded. The two girls jumped up, frightened to be discovered. One was a girl she'd seen at dinner further down the Gryffindor table. She had a round, innocent face and a shock of curly blond hair almost as unruly as Hermione's. Except it was unruly in the nice way, not in the 'that girl needs a hair-scrunchie' way. The other was a girl she didn't know yet, an Indian girl with an angled face and long, dark hair plaited down her back. Currently, both of them were wearing a look of shame, her mobile phone clasped in their hands.

"We're very sorry…it's just that this thing started beeping and we didn't know what to do and it makes noises and we didn't want to wake you…" the blond girl stuttered. The Indian girl carefully took the phone and shifted it closer to Hermione.

"Why on earth didn't you want to wake me? It's time to school", she complained groggily.

"Well, it started ringing at six in the morning and that's too early for anyone to be waking up", Lavender said, placing the phone back into her hands, "what is it?"

It's a mobile phone. I'd already heard about your lack of technology but this is quite surprising", she quickly checked that the girls hadn't changed anything, and then placed the phone back on the bedside table and slipped out of the bed, "when does our first class start?"

"In an hour. You're in the same class as the other first year Gryffindors, Potions with the Slytherins", the blond girl replied instantly.

"An HOUR?" Hermione threw her trunk open and pulled out her Gryffindor robes, throwing them over her shoulder and sprinting for the shared dormitory bathroom in her pajamas while the other two girls watched her curiously. She slammed the door shut behind her, stripped, and ran into the shower at full speed. Exactly twelve minutes later she was out of the bathroom, dressed in uniform with her hair still soaking wet. She threw her pajamas into her still-unpacked trunk and ran to stand in front of the mirror.

"Oh what am I going to do now? I only have forty minutes", she complained to her reflection.

"That's quite some time dearie. You've got potential", she almost jumped when the mirror spoke back to her. After she reminded herself that she was in a magical world, she took out her hairbrush and desperately tried to get it through her hair.

"Why are you in such a hurry. Like you said, we've got forty minutes before we have to leave", Lavender commented from where she was adjusting her skirt in front of another mirror.

"But it takes an hour to do my hair! I have the worst hair ever!" She complained loudly, wrestling with the handle of the hairbrush. It was stuck in the tangles. Just great. After a few seconds of tugging, she felt soft fingers take the hairbrush from her and lay it on the dresser.

"Calm down, I'll help. Tell us about the little box that makes noises", Parvati said while her expert hands neatly parted Hermione's hair into three sections. Hermione relaxed a little when she realized that the girl knew her hairstyles well, and thought about how to approach the explanation. After all, she was dealing with people who had the technological prowess of the fifteenth century. This called for skill.

"It's called a mobile phone. It's used to talk to other people over long distances…um…they have to have a phone as well. It's 'muggle' technology. It can also be used as an alarm clock", she told them, "its hard to explain it to someone who has no knowledge of physics, so that's all I can tell you."

"Sounds complicated. We probably don't need it anyway, though", Lavender lost her interest in the device, "I'm going to head out. Don't be late, some poor creature manages to die in the Potions Master's pumpkin juice every morning, he's in a despicable mood."

"Well that's a rude way to describe a teacher", Hermione commented while Lavender left he room. She reached up to feel the smooth ridges of her freshly braided hair. It was practically perfect, with only the odd stray hair here and there. This girl had gifted hands.

"Thank you! For some reason I thought it would only get puffier if I braided it", she replied to the girl – Parvati – behind her. Parvati smiled and pulled her bookbag over her shoulder, leading the way out of the room and down the halls.

The entire house was already awake and busy. Older students lounging around the sofas in the common room, well acquainted with the surroundings. Some first years hung nervously in corners, watching the bustle of everyone else. Hermione barely had time to notice this with the speed at which Parvati was dragging her along.

"Why on earth are we practically running, we've got fifteen minutes!" She complained.

"You don't understand, we have to get there on time. You may not have heard of Professor Snape, but you should start early. He's the Potions Master of Hogwarts, which is basically a really big-shot academic qualification. But he's the worst teacher ever; he's always looking for ways to insult his students. He's absolutely horrible to Gryffindors in particular. This may be my first year here, but my mother sent me here with horror stories about him", Parvati explained, "If we're on time for class instead of early, he'll pick on us for the rest of our schooling!"

"I see", Hermione commented as she ran to follow the taller girl. She highly doubted the man was that bad. If he was, he wouldn't have been hired. And anyway, what if he was only mean because the students thought he was mean? Causation instead of correlation, all in one big vicious teacher-hating cycle. In Hermione's trained mind, he was an academic. That meant he was pretty much awesome.

They entered the classroom a mere five minutes later, with ten minutes still left hanging on the clock. Surprisingly, over three quarters of the class were already there. Nervous first years nibbling their fingernails and fiddling with their shiny new wands. The classroom itself was fascinating; there were jars of strange concoctions on every wall, sitting atop bookshelves that didn't leave space for a square meter of empty wall. The teacher's desk was strangely naked compared to the intricacies of the walls, with hardly a jar on it. It was one of the weirdest classrooms she'd ever been in. Parvati immediately took a seat next to Lavender and began talking animatedly, leaving Hermione feeling slightly like a party orphan. She looked around class for another empty seat, and the only one was at the front next to…

It figured no one would be brave enough to sit next to Harry Potter, even though he was nothing but a clueless little boy in reality. Someday, she'd get around to reading all those storybooks people with loose imaginations had written about him. Someday she'd make him read them too. She purposefully strode down the aisle and plopped down next to the dark haired boy who looked rather lonely, sitting on a two person joint desk with no one beside him. He gave her a grateful look as she sat down, which she ignored.

"Do you know anything about potions?" He asked after a moment of slightly awkward silence.

"I only had enough time to read a book which covered the first year syllabus", she replied stonily, heartily conveying the 'I'm smart and you're not' attitude she had coveted since elementary.

"Oh. I…um…only know a little." Clearly he hadn't touched any of his books.

"And by 'a little', you probably haven't read anything", she voiced. Harry reddened a little beside her.

"I wasn't allowed", he replied softly. Hermione took a good look at him. That had to be the worst excuse in academic history. He _wasn't allowed? _Were his parents –relatives, she corrected– allergic to books? Did he buy flammable textbooks? Did he live in a strict anti-book fascist regime? What on earth could that mean?

"You weren't allowed? What does that mean?" She asked incredulously. If he was going to make an excuse, he could at least make it a good one.

He shrugged and averted his green eyes, "well, my relatives are a little…nervous about magic. They don't really.."

At that moment, the clock struck and the professor strode in. Immediately, there was silence.

He certainly lived up to the idea presented by Lavender and Parvati, with his stern, high cheekbones and dark eyes. The image was further enhanced by a long frock coat that never deviated from a deep black. The hints of a white shirt were barely visible, the coat was done up to the last tiny button at his neck. It swirled behind him like a cape, and tapered down to thin wrists, leading into scarred hands. He looked around the classroom with a thoroughly patronizing look, eyes dark with intelligence. He was stark opposite of the headmaster.

Hermione decided that she approved.

An evil Potions Master seemed to fit in so well with the idea of a magical school that it seemed perfect. It would have been nice if he was also younger, and perhaps more attractive, but she supposed that qualification was optional. A witch with a pointy hat, a Wise and Knowledgeable old wizard, and an evil, brooding Potions Master. It was like something out of a storybook.

He swooped into the classroom like an oversized vulture and snapped his wand out of the many folds of his cloak. Hermione listened, enraptured with his oratory, as he began to speak.

"…put a stopper in death. Are you paying attention?"

She immediately looked to her side, where Harry was noting down everything the professor had said. The boy looked up with an apologetic glace and put the notes away. His face grew slightly pale under the cold stare he received. He opened his mouth, probably to comment that he was only copying what Professor Snape had been saying, but he decided against it and settled for something shorter.

"Yes sir."

"Of course", Snape drawled sarcastically, "so we have a new celebrity, do we? Harry Potter. An arrogant student who thinks he is above paying attention. Tell me the…"

Hermione listened, a little distressed, as he began to ask a question from the texts. She immediately put her hand up in the air, hoping to save the poor boy from trouble, but he didn't even notice. _Ok, maybe he isn't so impressive a professor after all. The big bully…he was probably well within range of Harry's book. _

After a few more questions, he continued talking, leaving poor Harry visibly shaken and a little angry. She could feel him bristling beside her.

"Just be quiet and do what he says", she whispered to him. At first he looked a little surprised that she had bothered to talk to him, but he nodded in agreement. The class resumed with Professor Snape going through an explanation of what Potions were, why they existed, and the precision and care to go into making them that he was sure none of them 'idiot first years' had. Nothing more than she had already read in the textbooks, but she listened intently anyways, holding back a few yawns.

It wasn't long before class ended. Apparently there was still a week of preparation to go before they were allowed to put their hands on a single ingredient. However, he did mention all the delightful punishments he dealt out to students who came late or missed assignments. They seemed to include a few hours working with some of the nastier ingredients. As soon as they were dismissed, Hermione reached into her book bag and too out her schedule.

"What do we have next?" A voice spoke up beside her. It was the unhygienic redhead, Ron Weasley.

"Don't you have a schedule as well?" She asked pointedly.

"No point in carrying it around, we all have the same classes anyway since we're in the same year and same house. Might as well follow the other Gryffindors", he shrugged, "you're Hermione form the welcome feast, right? How did the re-sorting request go for you?" His voice was slightly mocking.

She quickly put her things back into her book bag and looked away, a little embarrassed, "no need to ask. Come on let's go. There may be a few minutes left but I like to keep some time on hand in case we get lost on the way", she turned to Harry and watched while he shoved his books back into his bag under her stare.

"No reason to worry", Ron smiled, "I have four older brothers who came here, I know this castle like the back of my hand just from their stories.

"Lead the way, then", she replied.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"You were saying something about knowing the castle well? Would you like to support that statement?" Hermione glared at the redhead, enraged and annoyed.

"It's fine, we'll get there. Geez, don't be such a worrywart", Ron waved her off, and the looked confusedly into the mass of staircases.

"They seem to move randomly", Harry commented, "maybe if we wait long enough we'll find a pattern in them."

She looked at the staircases in thought. _All right, so that one will be One, and I'll label them downwards until the one down there that leads to the bottom floor, that'll be Five. So One goes to three, Five comes up to Two, Three defies the laws of physics and seems to be detached at both ends, so it's morphed into Four. Two is still…no it's just moved down to five. One' moving again, but now it's going to Two…did it just get shortened? Ok forget that; let's focus on one of them. Three is going to Two…Four…One…and it's detached its other end. Seems like they all do that. What is with this bloody complicated piece of architecture? And where are we?_

"If there is a pattern, it's too complicated to figure out", she said after a small pause, "and we still don't even know which hallway we're in relative to the hallway on the Potions room.

"Let's just pick one and take it. The worst that can happen is that we end up equally lost as we are right now", Harry suggested. She gave him a good glare, and then softened. With no other alternatives, that was what they would have to do.

"Fine, let's take…that one", she purposefully strode towards the nearest staircase and hoped it would miraculously lead them out. Late for Transfigurations…Professor McGonagall was going to kill her…

The three of them stepped onto the staircase, and then held on for dear life as it began to rotate while they were still standing on it. As soon as it anchored itself to the next floor, they ran like mad to get on solid ground before it made its next move. They stood on the floor they had reached, panting.

"I can't even tell which staircase we took, it's all changed…" Hermione complained.

"Wait a minute, isn't this…the third floor?" Harry commented slowly.

"Yeah, seems like it. Who cares, let's just find a way out. This looks like the right hallway", Ron pointed in a random direction for who-knew-what reason and lead them into an empty corridor.

"Why are there no people here?" Harry questioned.

"Because…we're late and everyone's in class", the redhead answered. Hermione groaned.

After a while of walking around and peering through every open door, they reached the end of the corridor. It ended in a single door that looked exactly like the others. Ron turned the knob. It was locked.

"They…um…lock doors sometimes. The castle does it, I think", he told them, "anyone know any helpful spells?..."

"Move", Hermione sighed and shoved him aside. She took out her wand, recalling the lock-opening spell she had picked up somewhere. She'd never practiced it before, but apparently it was easy. She brought the wand movements to mind and swirled the rod of willow neatly in the air.

"Alohomora", she enunciated. Hesitantly, she turned the knob, eyes opening in surprise when it turned.

"Great. Let's go", she led them through the door and into another hallway, leading sideways from the previous one.

After a while of wandering blindly, hearing Ron curse colorfully about Merlin, and listening to Harry mutter about his horrible luck, Hermione was red in the face. It was only the first day of school and she was making a complete fool of herself. And these two boys were tagging along everywhere she went like they expected her to declare them friends. She had higher standards than that! Maybe Draco Malfoy was out of the picture, but she sure as well could find some people to higher quality to call her friends. There was no way she planned to get chummy with the poor sop of a Boy Who Lived and some brat who's eating style was enough to make anyone turn off chicken. Why on earth had that Indian girl, Parvati, left her alone in the class? At least she seemed smart. And Lavender…well she actually seemed like an airhead but it wasn't good to judge too fast. Why couldn't she find herself some good Ravenclaw friends?

Finally, they reached large room with tons of pillars.

"Alright, so seem to be at the centre of the third floor and-"

Hermione paused. Beside her, the two boys paused. For a moment, the weight of the pause allowed them to feel the whole of their terror.

At the centre of the large pillared room, not ten steps away from them, was a dog. It wasn't an ordinary dog. The only way it could be described was by borrowing a term from ancient Greek mythology. The term _Cerberus. _It was, indeed, a giant three-headed dog. With a large blob of gooey snot dripping out of its nose and everything. Too frightened to move, they slowly backed away.

"I think it's time to go now…" Ron whispered in her ear. She nodded wordlessly and turned, pulling Harry by his sleeve. The other boy was still watching the dog, with a mixed look of terror and curiosity. She managed to drag him away without making any noise, and they slowly crept back through the door they'd come through.

After ten more minutes, they somehow miraculously managed to get back to the giant stairways.

"Great, we escaped monster dog, and we are successfully back where we started", Hermione muttered. Then something clicked, "wait a minute…"

She turned to Ron, "the paintings here can talk can't they?"

"Yes, 'course they can", Ron replied. She face palmed. How could they have missed something so obvious? She walked to the nearest picture frame, which held an image of a rather well endowed lady dressed in an extravagant gown, "excuse me, Madame. Could you tell us how to get to Professor McGonagall's Transfigurations class?"

The lady in the picture considered it for a moment, and then pointed with a long, decorated nail, "take that staircase over there to the second floor, and then go down that corridor. It'll be behind the largest door", she went back to filing her practically non-existent nails.

"Thank you", Hermione replied calmly, fuming inside at the though of their stupidity, "come on, we're late enough already."

The three arrived at Transfigurations fifteen minutes late.

"We were lost, Professor", Ron mumbled in apology. He received a stern look from their head of House. She then turned to Hermione and Harry, "I would suggest a map. I expected better from all of you, being late is unacceptable here at Hogwarts. For your punishment, the three of you will have detention with Hagrid today evening", she turned to the blackboard and began the lesson.

Hermione sat down feeling like she'd rather crawl into a hole and die. Ron unwisely chose to sit down right beside her. Harry, having learned his lesson from the previous class, sat down behind both of them, feeling sorry for the poor Hufflepuff who was sitting beside him who looked stunned at being at such close proximity of the Boy Who Lived.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

After a long day of classes, three first years found themselves headed towards a small hut on the outskirts of the grounds.

"It's fine, really. It won't be too hard, Hagrid's very nice and he won't make us do anything difficult", Harry consoled the frazzled girl walking silently beside him like a ticking time bomb.

"That's not the point! It doesn't matter if he gives us cupcakes and sends us on our way, my reputation is RUINED", she suddenly turned and seized Ron by his collar, "do you know how many detentions I've had since I was introduced into my first school-like facility at the age of two? DO YOU?"

The poor redhead looked away, slightly unnerved, "um…a very small number? Maybe two?"

"ZERO. This is my FIRST detention. And it's because of you", her voice was dangerously low, and she let go of his collar slowly, as if she'd wanted to rip it off first. A calm hand on her shoulder slowly steered her to walk again, and she turned around to look into green eyes.

"It'll be alright. Reputations can always be built back up if you try hard", he said softly, "and this is good for us, we can ask Hagrid about the three-headed dog."

She calmed down at those words, her curiosity taking over.

"Did either of you see what it was sleeping on?" She asked quietly.

"No, I was a little too busy comparing my height to the length of its fangs", Ron answered honestly.

"Well I saw it. The floor was made of wooden boards, and they were laid down sideways, horizontally", she motioned the length of the floorboards with her hands, "but under the Cerberus, they were different. The boards that it was sleeping on were laid vertically", she motioned with her hands again, "why would that be?"

"Because the builder had too much Butterbeer to drink?" Ron suggested.

"No! Because there was something important underneath it", she paused for them to take in the information, "the Cerberus was sleeping on top of a trapdoor, it had been chained to exactly that spot. It wasn't just a pet monster, it was a guard dog. There's something underneath it, something that can be found through that door. That dog was guarding something", she whispered harshly.

Harry nodded, "it must be something important, that's why Dumbledore warned us at the Welcoming Feast, and that's why I mentioned we were on the third floor."

"We're never doing that again", Ron stated. His voice reached a curiously high pitch.

"And you call yourself a Gryffindor", Hermione muttered while the redhead gave her a sheepish look, "as my father would say, it would take an inhuman lack of curiosity not to investigate, and curiosity is a virtue. However, common sense is quite the virtue as well, so we have to do this intelligently. But the point is, you don't just see a giant three headed dog and think, 'oh look at that, that's nice. Back to homework.'"

The three of them reached a small hut that looked like something out of the Stone Age. _And I though the rest of the Wizarding World was behind, _Hermione thought sardonically. She waited on the porch and Harry raised the iron knocker and let it drop against the wooden door. They heard a few sounds coming from inside, and then the door opened.

The man who opened it was practically a giant, probably well over seven feet tall. He had a beard that seemed to encompass his entire face, and was dressed like someone from the Middle Ages. He was also a little…large around the middle.

"Oh, welcome. Yer the students Professor 'Gonagall send over, aren't ya? Come on in", he gestured for them to enter.

"See, he's nice", Harry whispered to her as they stepped in.

The inside of the little hut looked no better. He led them all to sit around a small wooden table, and Hermione took a look around the place. The floors were made of dirt and stone, and probably hadn't been cleaned since the Founders days. On the walls were hunting weapons and there was a small kitchen in one corner. The only actual room led off the kitchen, she supposed it was a bedroom. Even more unnerving was the giant black drooling dog that sat in one corner, reminding her of a different animal of the same species…

The giant took out three rather unclean plates from a cupboard and laid them onto the table. Then he took out a large vessel that had some sort of black cake in it, and spooned a little onto each plate.

"This 'ere is a specialty of mine. I call it Rock Cake. Have some, it tastes' great", he smiled enthusiastically and dropped a fork onto each plate. Hermione gave him a small smile before picking up the fork that was twice the size of her hand and separating a tiny part from the very edge of the cake slice. She hesitatingly put it into her mouth, thinking that maybe it tasted better than it looked. She was wrong.

"Why don't ya introduce yer friends first, Harry?" He suggested once they had all taken a few bites. Hermione forced herself to suffer through it. More than anything, this was clearly the punishment McGonagall had wanted from them, it was clear that this nice giant wouldn't have the heart to put them to work.

"This is Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley", Harry explained, "We met on the train to Hogwarts. Hermione's a muggleborn like me."

"You're a half blood, Harry", Ron said around a mouthful of rock cake, "a muggleborn isn't just raised by muggles, their parents are muggles. You're a half-blood cause you've got two wizarding grandparents."

"What if you're the child of a half-blood and a pureblood? Are you a three-quarters blood?" She questioned.

"Let's leave tha' topic. I'm getting me confused", Hagrid decided, "so wha' exactly did you three young fellas do? Got called up by Professor 'Gonagall and told that you three ha' been wanderin' in the halls, late fer class".

"Actually, we were lost", Hermione stated, "and we ran into something unpleasant on the way". She was warming up to the giant. Slightly.

"…It was a giant three headed dog! And it was guarding something!" Ron burst out. She thought of mentioning his tactlessness but decided it would travel to deaf ears. Moreover, she was busy regarding Hagrid. He was getting strangely fidgety. His huge hands were all swirled up in the draping fabric of his overcoat, and his gaze never lingered in the same spot for over a second. He also looked strangely stiff, as if uncomfortable in his own home. Noteworthy. Very Noteworthy.

"Oh. Well, tha's nice", he commented, his forehead growing a little crinkled.

"No, it most certainly was not", Hermione stated.

"When we got to class, we were already late. Professor McGonagall gave us detention with you", Harry finished, "and on the way here we remembered hearing that you were very good with animals. So we thought we'd ask you about it. What was that thing, Hagrid?" At least he was subtler than Ron, but that wasn't saying much.

"Well…uh…judgin' on yer descriptions, it was probably a Cerberus", he replied, "but if you wanna see more interestin' creatures, you only have ta pay a visit to the Forbidden Forest", he choked on his slice of rock cake, "not that you all'd be allowed, with no professers around."

"The Forbidden Forest? I read about that in Hogwarts, a History. Why on earth do they have a dangerous forest right next to a children's school? Doesn't that make absolutely no sense?" She questioned. Seeing as he was getting away with not giving them information on the dog…

"They're good for Potions ingredients and the like", Ron answered instead, "and for Care of Magical Creatures classes. That's what my brothers told me."

There was a moment of awkward silence in which they all had no idea what to do. Ron started a small one way conversation about some game called 'quidditch', but it soon failed. Finally, Hagrid put an end to it.

"Well. I don't hav' any work for ya to do at tha moment. I suppose you can leave now", he said hesitantly. Harry immediately stood up, "thanks Hagrid. I'll come by to visit later."

"Sure. Bring yer friends", the giant smiled.

"I will", Harry smiled. He seemed to have some sort of close relationship with the giant. Then again, Hagrid wasn't exactly hard to make friends with, he was like…a giant teddy bear.

As they left the hut, the sky had already started to darken into a calm dusk. It was past seven. They walked back in silence, wondering where they had gone wrong. They all knew that Hagrid had held something back, but they had failed to extract it from him. Only Harry seemed relatively unconcerned with their situation.

"Listen, I'm going to the library to do some research on the Cerberus. I'll tell you what I find tomorrow during Potions. That's unless either of you has enough brain cells to be of help", she stated once they had reached the courtyard outside the school building. In Hermione's world, this was her version of an ultimatum. Anyone who refused to go to the library with her was very bad friend-material indeed.

Ron looked a little miffed at the insinuation that he didn't have enough brain cells, "fine. I'll come. I probably know my way around the library better than you. I have four brothers who went here before me", he huffed.

"Alright let's all go", Harry suggested when he saw that she was preparing to argue. He gave her a small smile and followed her lead into the building.

Hermione didn't make the same mistake again. As soon as they had stepped foot into the building, she went up to the first portrait she could find. When she had confirmed the answer with three more pictures, they all head in the direction of the library in the building.

As this was her first time visiting this new library, Hermione took a moment to appreciate it before actually stepping in. She looked around at the large but cozy room approvingly. Its small population of students – mostly with blue patches on their robes – roaming about with their noses buried in books. A strict, stereotypical librarian walking through the aisles. Students with chessboards sitting in one of the far aisles with desks. According to every teaching she had grown up with, this room was one version of heaven.

That was until she was shoved a little roughly in the back by a certain redhead.

"Why are you just standing there? Move already", Ron pushed her aside and walked in, "nice place. Don't you think. Harry?"

She glared at him for a while and then reminded herself that there was no use getting mad. Shoving her anger aside, she walked straight down into one of the aisles, looked around, and then looked back.

"Harry, could you help me determine how the sorting system here works? I mean, they must have the Dewey Decimal System or something…" She picked up the nearest book and checked it for any sort of cataloguing. Seemingly, there was none.

"Oh, look who it is", a voice called from behind them.

All three of them turned immediately to a face that they were always familiar with. Harry had already been introduced to him as he entered the castle, and Ron was at his side while the exchange happened. Hermione had already met him before school started, in a bookshop.

"Granger, is it? The clueless mudblood girl who thought she could be in Slytherin?" Draco Malfoy taunted. It was not a pretty sight. Beside him were two other boys who were at least three-halves his size, and quite a bit more around the waist. Minions. He had Minions.

She was immediately struck by the word 'mudblood'. It didn't take her long to remember the things Neville had taught her, she could guess what it meant. She supposed it was a creative opposite to 'pureblood', as it meant 'dirty blood'. Wizards seemed to regard blood in the same way muggles used to regard skin color. She knew that she ought to be rational and see it as the nonsense it was…but somehow she still felt hurt. Draco was one of the first people she had really hoped to be friends with, and now he was calling her names just like everyone else in her previous schools.

"Shut it, Malfoy", Ron growled from beside her. Harry was watching the exchange with his eyes narrowed.

"Don't you remember? Standing there in that shop with the nerve to think someone like you could be a Slytherin? It was just yesterday that I heard you were actually a mudblood. I just had to come see you about it", he smirked.

"There's nothing great about being a pureblood with a rich daddy if you end up a dirty Slytherin, Malfoy", Ron growled again.

"Much better than being a dirt-poor Weasley", he retorted.

Ron's face went red. Harry decided to intervene, "keep your comments to yourself Malfoy. Hermione doesn't need a rich father to reach her goals, she's smart. Her background doesn't really matter."

"Oh Potter, you're just as naïve, aren't you? I won't bother with you since you've already sided with the Weasels, but blood status is everything around here. A mudblood with no wizarding tradition cannot hope to succeed in this world", Draco's smile turned into a sneer.

"You say that again Malfoy-" Ron's yelling was interrupted by the appearance of Madam Pince, the librarian. She looked over all of them disapprovingly, raised a finger to her lips to signal silence, and walked away.

"Come on Hermione, let's go", Harry said to her softly, tugging at her arm. She felt the need to say something, to stand up for herself, but she remained quiet. It was a strategy she'd learned while being bullied in kindergarten, and it was so ingrained in her that she would always resort to it. _Just be quiet. Let them say what they want and go away. Anything you say will be used against you anyway. _At the moment, she wanted nothing better than to overcome these habits and give Draco the comeback he deserved, but she just couldn't.

She didn't resist to Harry's tugging. He led her out of the aisle they were in, Ron following closely. Draco and his minions laughed as they walked away, but Hermione felt nothing.

"Don't worry about him, he's just a big bully. Even his father's a bully, my dad tells me all about him. Not all the purebloods are like that", Ron tried his best to console her.

"I just got here so I wouldn't know much, but if I were you I wouldn't be too worried. Blood status doesn't seem too important in determining skill and talent, and I know that's what you're probably interested in", Harry told her softly. She looked to him and saw him smiling back with warm green eyes. The trepidation in her slowly melted away as her own lips turned up to mirror the smile.

"Yes, I know. It's just that I was a little naïve around him before and well, I know better now. He didn't seem like good friend-material anyway", she laughed it off.

"Yeah, you've got us for that", Harry Potter replied.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

_Hello mum, dad. It's been a nice first few days, although Hogwarts is astoundingly large and I may have gotten in a little bit of trouble for getting lost. My roommates are very nice. There's Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who are currently looking over my shoulder as I write this…alright I sent them away. They're all so curious, they've never seen any sort of technology before. Now that they're gone I can write about them. Lavender isn't the smartest girl I've met, but she's very nice. She's been introducing me to customs and manners in the wizarding world. Parvati is fascinating, she tells me stories about her magical society in India. She came here for education because her family moved to Britain. However, I'm going to make a trip there one day and ride their flying carpets. Also, she'd good with braiding and my hair actually behaves these days. _

_I've also made some friends, so you should be proud. They're probably not the best friends…one's a little on the rough side and the other seems a little clueless, but they're workable. I thought they were total idiots, but they're alright. I'll send you pictures of them soon, as soon as I can get Ron (the not so bright one) to get within five meters of my computer (he's a little scared of it). I met them both at the entrance feast. I know you both used to say that I have to choose my own friends, but these two…I suppose they kind of chose me. Hopefully it works either way. _


	6. The Theory of Incantation

**I think I need to mention again that this story is AU, which means that it takes place in the modern day. For all you people wondering how Hermione charges her laptop, you'll find out soon.**

**Also, I've heard many theories on why wizards and witches have to use word incantations, but most of them don't explain accidental magic, or how spells can be created. So this is my take on it.**

**This chapter is up extra-quick thanks to all your motivating reviews!**

**Chapter 6**

"Hermione did you hear? Harry Potter's become the youngest seeker in Hogwarts History-"

"Lavender, I was _there. _I _saw. _And I couldn't care less, it's just some sport", Hermione snorted. She had been there watching while poor Neville was carried off to the hospital. Harry's method of retrieving the remembrall was unorthodox, but she had to admit it had looked pretty cool. However, all everyone was talking about was his new position on some sports team.

She was on her way to Charms after what was currently the most-gossiped about even in Hogwarts, a boy flying on a broom. It was nice, and the flying was rather fun, but sports just weren't her thing, the only thing she could do decently was run. That morning she'd listened to Parvati wistfully talking about her flying carpets and decided those sounded much nicer than brooms.

"Aren't you proud of him? You're his friend, he actually talks to you", Lavender complained.

"Sure I'm proud. But I'd be prouder if I knew what the big deal was about. The wizarding world only has one sport, and it requires essentially sitting down. That's not exactly a full meal of burned calories in anyone's book, nor will it develop any serious muscle. It's also kind of stupid, seeing that the seekers determine the entire outcome of the game", she explained, "I actually prefer muggle games. They make sense". As they entered the classroom, she looked for a red head and found him, with Harry sitting beside him. She walked to the front and sat down on his other side, after Harry's victory he'd immediately gone with him and left her behind.

"Hello Hermione, did you hear the news?" Ron asked, his face flushed with excitement.

"For the last time, yes!" She leaned past him and looked at Harry, "I don't know too much about this game but you did a great job getting Neville's remembrall, congratulations Harry."

The green-eyed boy beamed under her praise, for him the congratulations coming from her were much more valuable than all the high fives he'd received from random students in the hall. He also decided to never admit that he did it to avenge her.

They all fell silent as Professor Flitwick entered the room. It was their second Charms lesson, so they had already met the diminutive man. Last lesson he'd only explained what Charms were, but he'd mentioned that they would be learning one today. A useful one. Hermione had been waiting all day for this class. Since Professor Snape was refusing to let them near anything until they had the theory down and Professor McGonagall was essentially doing the same, this was going to be her very first taught spell.

"Today, we are going to learn a small, simple charm. The incantation for this is very easy, and I expect most of you to have it perfected before the end of class", he paused, "this is a hovering charm. It will allow the object you are targeting to hover above the ground, the height depends on how much magic you put into the spell, most of you will subconsciously know how to increase and decrease height. For this class, you will aim to make it hover ten centimeters above the desks. I will demonstrate."

He took out a short wand and pointed at a feather on his table, "Wingadium Leviosa." Slowly, the feather began to rise. He canceled the spell, and let it float back down to the table.

"Everybody give it a try."

Beside her, Ron immediately picked up his wand and pointed it at the feather like he was planning to spear it, "Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather didn't move, Hermione let out a dramatic sigh, "Ron you're doing it all wrong! The pronunciation is off. It's pronounced, LeviOSa, not LevioSA."

He looked back at her with an annoyed glare, "let's see you try it then."

Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out her wand. This was her chance to shine, her chance to show them that she wasn't just another muggleborn. She slowly pointed it at the feather, remembering the exact locations that the professors fingers had been in as she clasped the wand. Then she slowly made the small swish-and-flick, enunciating clearly and she did so.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

She watched in full happiness as the feather slowly began to rise, getting higher and higher as she raised her wand. Professor Flitwick had been watching the whole time, seeing her get the spell perfectly on her first try. She beamed inside and out. After a while, when the whole class had seen her, she brought the feather back down.

"Good work, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor!" Their professor proclaimed. The entire class clapped for her. She looked sideways at Ron and Harry, expecting smiles on their faces. Harry was, indeed, smiling at her. Ron, however, was glaring, and he turned away with a huff. What on earth was wrong with him?

She turned back to the Professor, "professor Flitwick, I have some questions I've been wanted to ask about spells. I'm a muggleborn, you see, so it's not exactly intuitive."

"Your spell just know certainly seemed intuitive", the professor smiled, "but go on, I'll answer if I can."

"Why exactly do we say these things? Are they really necessary? Why does your magic need to you say 'Wingardium Leviosa' before it does what you asks?"

The professor nodded, "a valid question. There exists a theory in Wizarding academia called "the Theory of Incantation", which is very powerful due to its explanatory power. It states that essentially, the words are not needed at all. This is why young witches and wizards can perform accidental magic and very experienced wizards and witches can perform wordless 'silent' spells. However, using these words creates a 'trigger', since they have unique pronunciations that one does not use in daily life. What we teach you to do is associate the phenomenon of your magic making something float with a group of words, "Wingardium Leviosa". In this way, whenever you say the term, your magic performs the act that has been associated with it. It's usually hardest the first time since you are performing the association. Without the term, you would be hard-pressed to focus your magic enough to get it to do what you want, especially if you are a beginner.

"This is the theory used most often in spell-creation as well. A sufficiently powerful wizard can find some words and teach himself to associate them with an act of magic, however it is difficult because it involves controlling your magic to perform the act without the words first. These words are usually a translated meaning of the spell in Latin, or Sanskrit in the east. This only helps others identify its purpose. Once you know the act of magic inside out, you can also perform it without the incantation, and young children can perform random acts of magic without saying anything. It also explains why you don't summon any magic when you use incantation in normal conversation, like when you explain a spell to a friend and tell them the incantation without performing it. If you need more information, the library is always open", he finished explaining.

"That's very interesting, sir", she replied, intrigued. It meant that technically there were still things out there that magic could do, but were never used because no one was powerful enough to name them. Theoretically, almost anything was possible with magic, however things that required ridiculous amounts of power would be deemed 'impossible'. Immediately, a multitude of possibilities rose…she would definitely need to head out to the library for this.

"Hermione, watch", Harry voice shocked her out of her thoughts, and she looked over to see his feather floating delicately above the table.

"Good work, Harry", she congratulated, smiling widely.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"…and you swirl it like this", Hermione took Lavender's hand and guided it through the movements. When the feather rose, the girl looked back at her with excitement.

"Thank you! My very first spell", she gushed. Hermione left her and turned around with a smile. She'd helped over five people perfect the spell. The bell had rung a few minutes ago, but Lavender was having some trouble so she had stayed back to help.

"You're very welcome. I have to go catch up with Harry and Ron now, they said they'd help me do some research", she turned and left the classroom. Since Charms was the last class of the day, a multitude of students were still roaming through the hallways, spending time talking to friends before dinner began at around seven in the evening. Harry and Ron were probably halfway to the common room, where they promised to meet before heading out to the library and doing the research they had been interrupted out of before. She was still incredibly curious about the three-headed dog, and it was even more interesting now that they knew Hagrid was involved somehow. The meeting in the hut had settled that, there was no doubt about it.

After pushing through various crowds of people, she finally saw Harry and Ron slowly walking towards the Gryffindor Common Room. She ran to catch up to them.

"…know it all. Did you see how annoying she was in class? No wonder she doesn't have any friends."

Hermione stopped. She was right behind them, close enough to reach out and touch them. Ron had said that. Ron, who was supposed to be one of her new friends.

_Calm down, Hermione. Look at this rationally. Maybe he's just a little angry at the moment. Maybe he's upset at something else and taking it out on you…_

No matter how much she tried to convince herself that it was somehow wrong, the words rang in her head and she stopped, frozen in midair, and Harry turned around and noticed her presence.

His eyes were filled with things he wanted to tell her, as if saying 'wait, he really didn't mean it, don't go', but she just had to get out of the area. She clutched her book bag to her chest and ran in the opposite direction, bumping into random people without apologizing. After a while of running her hair had escaped her braid and was as wild as it usually was.

The first room she saw that didn't have many people in it was a washroom, a girl's washroom. A good, traditional breakdown-area. She ran into it and entered one of the stalls in the back, a large stall with a little shower, a good place to sit and cry. Once she had established this, she buried herself into one of the corners and put her book bag in front of her face, crying into it silently. She pulled her knees into her chest and erupted into more tears.

Why on earth did all this have to happen? She had never cared about friends before, people had been saying those things about her for years and she hadn't given them a second look. She remembered a particularity bad memory from grade six, when the teacher had cheerfully told them that she wouldn't be picking their groups for them, so that they could work with their friends. After everybody had sorted themselves into groups, Hermione had been left over, sitting silently in her chair. At the end when her teacher had called out groups, she had noticed the girl still sitting, and asked her to join a group. Then some mean boy had called out that it she couldn't follow the instructions because she didn't have any friends. Some people had laughed. Others had looked sorry for her but weren't willing to actually go out of their way to accept her, the know-it-all. The teacher had stood there, looking a little embarrassed, and given the mean boy detention. Hermione remembered that she hadn't been affected or embarrassed at all; she had confirmed the boy's statement and had been sorted into a group at random.

Friends had never been mandatory in her book. She'd always looked at other people, and their silly fights with their friends, and how they'd cry over it in the bathroom, and she'd felt rather proud that she hadn't succumbed to all that silliness. Having a friend was like having a bicycle, nice but not really needed as long as you could walk. She had always been secluded in her books, and she had liked them better than any so called friend. If one of her favorite books had been ripped or shredded, then, maybe she would cry. What was so different now?

The answer was obvious. This time, she'd actually made friends; she'd taken her mother's stupid advice and befriended people. And it had been…nice. For the three days it lasted. It was nice to have someone to walk around with. Someone to talk to and wait for and ask to wait for you. Someone who actually wanted to go research in the library with you. She could see how the prospect was attractive. The problem was that she had already experienced that and now it was going to be bloody hard to forget about it.

_You can do it. You can forget. They would have distracted you from schoolwork anyway, this is actually a good thing. Now you don't have any more distractions. And plus, they weren't the most beneficial of friends anyway. One was an unhygienic idiot who can't do basic spells and the other was a bigger sissy than you who grew up in non-wizarding environment and can't possibly have any knowledge to offer you. Who happens to be a famous little boy who killed a dark wizard. It's not good to get caught up in these things. _

She spent the next hour trying to convince herself that yes, this was a good thing, and that it wouldn't have worked out anyway. They were too different from her, they would only drag her down, and she had big plans for the future. After wiping away her tears, she slowly stood up, realizing that her hair was all over the place and that her legs had fallen asleep due to the way she had been curled up, and that now that she was awake they had a bad case and pins-and-needles. She determinedly shook them out, and tried to gather her hair in her hands and re-braid it herself.

"I want my friends back!" She erupted a few seconds later, curling back down on the floor and bawling like a baby. She didn't bother to hold back the tears. And she'd been taught that the only places that were OK to cry in were her mum's arms and the washroom.

A few minutes later when the tears stopped, she heard a small crash. A crash that sounded very similar to the sound of…a sink being ripped apart? Holding her breath, she got on her knees and peered out from under the stall.

The first things she were a pair of legs. But they weren't normal legs, they were HUGE. Like walking tree-trunks. Suddenly feeling rather scared, she leaned in closer and managed to raise her gaze to see the rest of the person.

Upon seeing said person, she wondered if she was going crazy.

Another loud crash brought her back to reality and she realized the GIANT TROLL was actually there. She had probably summoned it with the sound of her crying. She let out the breath she had been holding slowly and took another one, replenishing her air supply without making too much noise. She stepped back from the opening under the stall door.

_Alright Hermione, think. What should you do right now, what would a logician do? What are the escape routes? The toilet is clearly not an option, so the only way out is through the stall. There may be a possibility of making it under the trolls legs and out the door, but it has a rather long reach with that GIANT CLUB it's holding. Escape is mostly ruled out. Now what? I suppose the next option is to fight it somehow. Since your meager karate skills won't do anything against those GIANT ARMS, the only way you can fight is through confusion, or magic. _

She paused her line of thought to contemplate those options.

_Clearly you don't know any battle magic so you can't hurt it. So confusion…but there's no reason you can't do both, is there? Hmm what spells do I know?...Damn it why aren't any coming to mind? There's Wingardium Leviosa, which may be of some help but not immediately. Alohomora…is completely useless. There's Aguamenti but I've never actually tried that and it's probably not a good idea to use something I'm not sure I can do. Wait a minute…Lumos might work. But this is going to need some planning. Neville said that the brightness depends on how much power you use, but I've never made one that's bright enough to blind, not to mention it's already quite bright in here. Wait…that's it!_

Slowly, she removed her book bag from her shoulder, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Just beyond the stall, the troll was still smashing things. She opened the bag and look inside. After a little while of consideration, she took out a history textbook that was almost has thick as it was long. Hoping the plan would work, she slid her wand out and tapped the book.

"_Wingardium Leviosa," _she whispered, timing it to match with a crash from outside. The book began to float slowly. She slowly peered under the stall and looked up to see the height of the lone chandelier that lighted the bathroom. Whoever had decided to put a crystal chandelier in a girls bathroom? After deciding the question was irrelevant, she worked on making the book float. The lighting was over three meters high and she began to suspect that she wouldn't be able to make it all the way up, but she kept powering the levitation spell. The book floated higher and higher. Once it was around two and a half meters up, she levitated it sideways, and then higher, so that it was right next to the chain that held the lighting up. Then, in one swift burst of magic, she rammed the book into the chain.

Hermione sat back, sweat running down her shirt, and watched at the glass cups holding the candles of the chandelier were tilted so far that most of them fell out and crashed into the floor, and the ones that didn't fall were extinguished. Suddenly, the room was engulfed in darkness, and she heard the troll yell and brandish it's club.

Now it was time for the second part of the plan, getting the troll where she wanted. For a short while, she waited in the silence, waiting for her own eyes-and the trolls-to adjust to the darkness. Then she reached into her backpack and grabbed another book at random while the troll thrashed about outside. Then she stood up and unlocked the stall door, swinging it open. When it was open far enough, she threw the book until it made a satisfying 'clang' against the door of the opposite stall.

Immediately, the troll noticed the noise. She listened for its footsteps as it ungracefully bounded over to where it had heard the sound. Then, preparing her wand, she pointed it right at the place she had thrown the book, and yelled.

"Lumos!"

She concentrated on putting as much magic into the incantation as possible, and the tip of her wand lit up so brightly she had to look away. The troll was caught in the light, yelling as it's darkness-adjusted eyes were assaulted by the beam. She knew she had to do something while she had the change, so she held her wand steady in one hand, and grabbed her book bag with the other. With a yelp, she threw the bag at hard as she could, and it made a direct route for the troll's head. At such a close vicinity, it would've taken a conscious effort to miss, and the bag hit the troll straight in the head.

_Let's see you well you like my super textbook pack, designed for the student who wants to study third year material in her first year, _she thought smugly. The troll seemed to be knocked out cold, but she was still afraid to go close enough to retrieve the bag. Calling a teacher to help seemed to be the wisest thing to do.

Luckily, she didn't have to do too much of the work. When she turned around towards the entrance of the washroom, five people were staring at her. Two of them were Ron and Harry, the other three were the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.

In a sudden, all the fear that had escaped her before rushed into her, and she barely managed to hold herself up before falling unconscious.

The last things she heard were the words: "I _told _you we'd rue the day we placed a wand into her hands! The girl's gone troll hunting!"

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"She's awake!"

Hermione groaned before placing a hand to her head. Before she opened her eyes, she assessed what she could feel from her surroundings. The warm sheets underneath her frame informed her that she was lying in a bed, and the clinical lights from above that were filtering though her eyelids suggested that she was probably not in her own.

"Hello Hermione. Good morning-I mean night. Would you like anything? Water, perhaps? Pumpkin juice? Butterbeer? Maybe a chocolate frog? I'm sure I can get one from Dean. I hope you don't mind if it's a little melted-"

"Quiet", she mumbled at the voice. Luckily, there was completely silence after she uttered the words. She spent a while with her eyes closed before the pounding feeling in her head receded enough to open her eyes. The first thing in her line of sight was a face framed by red hair.

"Ron you may want to leave her alo-"

"Shush Harry, can't you see she's asked for some silence?" Ron snapped at the green-eyed boy behind him. She turned to look at Harry, who gave her a shrug.

"Blimey Hermione, do you remember what you did?" Ron looked down at her with excited eyes, "do you?"

"Yes, I remember. I don't see why I shouldn't, it wasn't exactly a boring experience", she replied calmly, "what time is it?"

"It's around nine o'clock. Dinner's over but we've brought you some food and Madam Pomfrey would be delighted to offer you more", Harry answered, "she's been trying to shove different sorts of medical food down my throat ever since I entered the infirmary. Apparently I'm under nourished."

"I don't really feel like eating. I need to get to bed so that I can wake up on time tomorrow", she pushed the blanket off and sat up in the bed, looking curiously at Harry. Under those robes, he _was_ a little on the thin side.

"I would like you to explain what happened first", a surly voice asked from the other side of the room. She looked up to see the Potion's Professor standing across from the bed. He was standing utterly still, watching her with dark eyes. In one hand he was holding a tray of potions or different color, clearly he had been mixing something.

"Well I was in the girl's bathroom and a troll entered, so I did what I could to get out safe, sir", she explained.

"And why were you in the abandoned bathroom?" He said it with a straight face.

"For reasons most people have when they enter a bathroom, sir", she explained, hoping she wasn't coming off as cheeky. The alternative form of explanation would have been vulgar.

He glared at her, "don't be impertinent, the plumbing there doesn't work, hence _abandoned bathroom._ What were you doing?"

"Well if you really need to know, sir, I was re-braiding my hair. It was messy," she huffed back. She hadn't even known the bathroom was abandoned, and she hadn't tried to flush a toilet or turn on a sink so she hadn't known the plumbing was faulty. He watched her for a while before giving up.

"Get back to your dorms, and take these two with you", he dismissed. She nodded and stood up, picking up her book bag that had been left beside the bed and gesturing for Harry and Ron to follow her.

Once they were out of the infirmary, Ron burst into conversation.

"Hermione that was _awesome cool! _You actually took down a troll! Teach us, master!" He playfully kneeled down in front of her as if offering her fealty.

"You may want to know exactly how I did it before blindly assuming I rode into battle with it on a white horse", she laughed, delighted that he was being friendly again.

The boy who was still on one knee in front of her considered the information, "fine. Teach us how to fight with our brains like you do, oh Master!"

She giggled for a while, "fine, first step, we've got to find you a brain." To be honest she wasn't entirely joking.

"You think so little of me, oh Master", Ron said, amused and indignant. He stood up and brushed the dust off his shoulders, "we were in the middle of dinner and Professor Quirrel-that big sissy of a Defense Professor-rushed in declaring there was a troll in the dungeons. Fainted right in the middle of the aisle like the twelve-year-old girl he is. We remembered that you had gone that way so Harry informed the teachers and we got there as fast as possible. I think we got there moments after you had the troll lying on the floor with your brilliance. That thing was huge! It was twice the size of great-aunt Muriel, and she's not exactly the smallest human around-"

"Ahem", Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder and shook, giving him a pointed look before pushing him in Hermione's direction. "What did we agree on, Ron?"

"Oh yes", Ron turned to her and attempted to give her the best puppy eyes he could manage, "Hermione I'm really sorry. It's not true that you don't have any friends, because you have us. We're your friends. And I promise we'll stick by you, even if you don't want us anymore. You may be annoying-"

Harry gave him a little punch in the back at this point.

"-I mean, just a little bit different, but what matters is that you can back it up. Taking down a troll is something that looks bloody awesome on a resume."

She succumbed to the humorous attempt of Ron trying to be sincere and smiled at him, "apology accepted."

"Yes!" He turned to Harry, "the Master has forgiven me. I am a guilt-free wizard!"

"And tomorrow we can go the library and do the research we keep getting distracted out of," Harry told her. He took her hand and squeezed it before letting go with a smile. So she had friends after all. She suddenly felt silly for crying so loudly in the bathroom, she knew from all the books she read that friends had little arguments just like anyone else. She had overreacted completely. _They may be an idiot and a sissy, but they're my idiot and sissy, _Hermione decided.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"We need to do something about this girl, Headmaster. I don't believe any of that hair-brushing nonsense, her hair was in place just minutes before, she has the Patil girl for a roommate. There's no way her hair would be so messy that she would need to personally seek out the bathroom farthest from her Charm's classroom just to look in the mirror and fix it", Professor McGonagall complained.

"As shocking as it is that I am agreeing with Minerva, she has a point", Professor Snape added, "if she had been standing in front of the mirror like she claims, the troll would have seen her immediately. She wouldn't have had any time for her shenanigans", he looked pointedly at McGonagall, "however, I also do not think that she willingly went after a troll. Not because I doubt her Gryffindor stupidity, but because she couldn't have known about it. She was not present at the dinner table when Professor Quirrel rushed in so charmingly and announced it. Also, I have some timing points to make. Potter and Weasley came to us to tell her that she was not there precisely half an hour into dinner, minutes after Quirrel came in. This means that she had left before seven o'clock, but we know from good estimates that the troll was released into the school building at around seven fifteen. From this I can conclude that she did not go looking after the troll."

"So she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Minerva McGonagall asked sardonically.

"No, the troll didn't enter that bathroom on a whim, there was no reason for it to do so when there were equally large rooms previously that it ignored, it could have just carried on down the hallway, but it stopped specifically at the bathroom. Somehow it knew she was there, she was probably making some sort of spectacle, maybe lights or noises", he replied with a sneer.

"And what sort of noise would be loud enough to attract a troll?"

Snape smirked, "how should I know? Maybe she was sitting in there and wailing about the detention you gave her. Girls tend to cry in bathrooms, don't they?"

"My detention was perfectly reasonable and-"

"Both you of, calm down", Headmaster Dumbledore interjected, "the important issue here is finding out how the troll was let in. Hogwarts is known as a safe haven of education, we must not let anything endanger our students."

"Personally I'm more interested in having the Granger girl interrogated-"

"Oh I'm sure that will change things, Minerva, Interrogation of a child, how perfectly reasonable. Just like your detention."

"Now you listen, unlike you I give out sparse and well-earned detentions that will teach my students not to repeat-"

"Silence!" The Headmaster erupted, "I'm asking the two of you to find out how this troll was let into the school grounds, you have until the end of the year."

The Potion's Master's and Transfigurations' Professor's faces were mirrored in their confusion.

"Why so long? I could find out in a couple of days if I had full reign", McGonagall finally asked.

The Headmaster sighed, "knowing our luck, it'll have something to do with the Defense professor, and I want this one to last at least to the end of the year before I have to go searching for someone else!"


	7. On Formulating Plans

**A few quick notes:**

**Remember, this story is AU. It takes place in the modern day. **

**Yes, Hermione is a prat. I suppose I'm attempting to write her emotional development. **

**McGonagall is not hostile, but she is strict. And slightly annoyed with Hermione. She isn't one of the antagonists in this story. **

**Thank you so much for reviewing, and enjoy the Chapter!**

**Chapter 7**

"What? How can this be?"

Hermione Granger stared at the chessboard in disbelief. Ronald Weasley had an advancing pawn and she had nothing, all her pawns had been gobbled up. She sighed in defeat and knocked her king over with a finger, signaling resignation.

"How did this happen? It was bound for a draw just a few moves ago!" She looked up and complained.

The red-head opposite her was nonchalantly resetting the board, "yeah, you're right. We were stuck in zugzwang a few moves ago, but I used a triangulation pattern to get back into the exact same position, except with your turn to move. Look," he deftly reset the position they had been in just a few moments ago, "see, in this position, it was my move. However, if I had moved forward and tried to aim for your pawns, I would have just been pushed out of the way when you moved your king. So instead, I retreated, you advanced, I moved left, you moved back, and I advanced, leaving us in the exact same position we were in before, except now it was your turn. And you couldn't triangulate."

She stared at the explanation in defeat, vaguely remembering some terms her chess tutor had introduced to her. After explaining, her tutor had added, "but you don't need to use this technique until you're up against at least a national master."

"How did you learn this?" She asked in incredulity.

"Grandpa's chess books helped. Mum always thought chess was hard work so whenever she'd call me to do work I'd tell her I was learning chess. Never failed to get me out of anything, especially since I can beat everyone in my family. It's much more fun than cleaning dishes", he explained, beaming.

"But…but," she gave up and sighed again, "I…never mind. We're going to play chess every single day for the rest of the year and you are going to teach me these things", she ordered, still slightly embarrassed with her defeat. Especially since she had boasted about being the youth champion of her region.

It had been almost three months after she had, according to Ron, bravely and miraculously slain the vicious troll. Since then, there had been little talk of the three-headed dog, mainly because Hagrid had been eluding them whenever they tried to visit. The last time Harry had gone to his hut, he had proclaimed urgent business in the Forbidden Forest and left with Fang for company. The three of them had grown more and more suspicious, but had been held back because, well, it was a three-headed dog. That kind of thing simply screamed 'adult matters, do not get involved'. However, they knew that their curiosity wouldn't lie dormant for too long. Which is why they were currently in the Library during lunch of December 1st.

She had Harry had finished eating early and decided that coming to the library was more productive than sitting at the lunch table and watching other people eat, and that it seemed like a good day to catch up on the research they had decided to do a long time ago. Ron hadn't been nearly finished but they dragged him off the table and brought him along. Once they'd reached the library to do research on the Cerberus, Ron had immediately found a chessboard at an open desk and challenged Hermione to a game. She had agreed.

A few moments later, Harry returned with an armful of books. While Ron and Hermione played, he had been left to research by himself.

"I found all these. They're books on magical creatures. I checked the indexes and they all have mentioned Cerberuses", he declared, panting slightly from the weight of the books.

"Great! Let's look through them", she pushed the chessboard aside and picked up the first book on the list. She flipped back to the index and trailed her finger down the alphabetically ordered terms, until she came to the word Cerberus.

"Here's one," she flipped to the page and began to read, "The Cerberus takes the form of a large triple headed dog. Very little is known about the uses of its anatomy, although some Potions Masters claim that its saliva can be useful in various minor healing potions. In the past, its only interaction with the Wizarding community has been through its use as a guard dog," she placed the book down, "well that was mostly useless."

"Wait a moment, if this has to do with Hagrid…" He trailed off. Hermione started at him expectantly and he continued, "while Hagrid was taking me shopping for school supplied, we went to the bank and he took out a small parcel. He seemed jittery, in the same way he did when we visited him at his house. It was around this small," he gestured in a tiny circle with his hands, "I'm not saying anything for sure, but it might be related somehow."

Hermione considered it, "I suppose. We'll have to find some way to go talk to Hagrid again," she looked up at the giant clock on the library wall, "for one I have to be somewhere. I'll see you in Transfigurations." She stood up and closed the book.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked her.

"To the Owlery. I go there every Friday, don't you notice? I'll see you in class," she waved and walked out of the library, swinging her heavier-than-usual book bag over her shoulder. As soon as she exited the room, she asked for directions from the first painting in her line of sight, an old man wearing a monocle.

"Hello, sir. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to the Owlery," she asked as politely as possible. She had been there a total of eleven times already, almost every Friday. But it was Hogwarts, and you never knew.

"You go down this hallway, turn left and go straight until you reach the stairs, wait until a staircase can take you three floors up, and then take it. Then you walk straight down the first corridor. The Owlery is the large room at the very end," the painting smiled at her, "I've heard about you. Some of the other paintings gossip about you quite frequently. They call you the Lost Girl." He chuckled. As usual, it was slightly different from the directions she had gotten last Friday. But she had no doubt it would still lead her to the Owlery. Hogwarts was a strange place.

Hermione committed the directions to memory and then turned away, disgruntled at the nickname. She walked down the hall, still struggling slightly with her heavy book bag. As she turned into the left hallway, she noticed that a set of heavy adult footsteps were right behind her. Ignoring them, she continued on her way.

Soon she was met with the stairs, and waited as the painted had told her. The footsteps had stopped as well.

When the correct set of stairs stopped before her, she walked onto them. Behind her, the heavy footsteps resumed.

By this time, she was just a little curious. So she decided to every-so-subtly discern who was following her by stopping, turning around, and looking at them.

It was none other than the Hogwarts Potions Master. As she stood there, he barely gave her a glace, sweeping past her and continuing the walk.

_Alright fine. I'll just ignore you too, _she decided, trailing behind him silently. It had already occurred to her that he hadn't been following her. He was simply going to the Owlery too.

They both reached the room at the same time a few moments later. Seeing as her professor was in front, Hermione waited for him to hold the door open for her. Unfortunately, he just let it drop shut behind him and she had to tug it open again, fuming.

Once she was inside she set about to do her own business. She walked over to a bench near one of the windows, and set down her heavy bag. The owls were kept in simple cages with locks that could be opened by lifting a bar from a bolt-like mechanism. She looked around for an owl that could do the job. It had to be rather large, since the package it had to carry was heavy. Soon, she settled on a plain brown one that had been poking at some hay in the corner of its cage.

Just like she had done before, she unbolted the cage and extended her hand, gesturing for the own to step up out of it. When the bird heard the lock being removed, it seemed to already know what to do. It slowly clawed its way out of the cage and watched her with its large eyes.

"Hopefully you can carry this without too much trouble", she whispered to it. She opened her bag and took out a large, black suitcase. A letter that she had written that morning was pasted to the front of it. She gestured for the owl to pick the suitcase up from its handles, demonstrating by picking it up in the same way. When she put it back down, the owl seemed to know what to do. It grasped the bag in its claws and looked at her expectantly.

"Ahem", she cleared her throat, "Take this to Mr. and Mrs. Granger at 32 Russell Street", she enunciated. The bird turned away without further ado and left through the open window, tugging the suitcase behind it with what seemed like un-birdly strength.

Job finished, she shouldered the bag and turned to leave. When she turned around, she found Professor Snape staring at her.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" He inquired dryly. For a moment she thought of ignoring the question in the same way he ignored her existence, but decided against it.

"My computer. It has a long battery life but it needs to be charged once every two weeks. I alternatively send my laptop and phone to my parents every week to be charged", she explained. He gave her a curious, mildly mocking look and turned away.

_Alright, we can pretend you weren't just very interested in what I was doing, _she decided, closing the door of the Owlery behind her. This particular teacher had been a bit of a mystery. She had already decided that she didn't like him in the least. He was unfair to the other students – she winced whenever the words 'Neville' and 'potions' occurred in the same sentence – he never recognized any of their efforts, and he never gave her any praise. She had handed in perfectly brewed potion after perfectly brewed potion and he had never said anything about them, even while Flitwick praised her skill and McGonagall grudgingly but fairly awarded her with points for ever perfect transfiguration. He alone was unfair and mean. She had considered more than once going to the Headmaster and complaining about how he treated students such as Neville, but she had already learned that things didn't work the same way here as they did in the Muggle world.

To get back to the main hall, she only had to follow a group of students. Living at Hogwarts for three months, she had deduced already that large groups of students were always headed to the Hall. As she made her way back, she looked around for a head of red hair and found him leaning against one of the stone walls, talking to Harry.

"…pretty much doomed," Harry was saying.

"What's doomed?" Hermione asked.

"Never mind him, 'Mione. He's just got jitters, that's all." Ron gave the black haired boy a pat on the back that sent him stumbling forwards, "he'll be fine."

"Fine where? How? What are you talking about?" She inquired.

Ron looked at her like she was from a different planet, "tomorrow's the first game of the year! You can't honestly expect me to believe you haven't heard of it."

"Well I think I've heard some talking going on here and there-"

"What am I going to do?" Harry lamented, rubbing his forehead, "I'm a first year! I'm not experienced. I barely know how the game is played because every time we practice Oliver Wood just tells me to 'go after the snitch and ignore everything else'!"

"Because that's exactly what a Seeker is supposed to do-"

"What if I get in someone's way? Think about it, what would you do if you were the other team and there was an eleven-year-old boy on the enemy's side that had the entire game in his hands? You'd go after him! You'd distract him! Oliver gave me the rulebooks to read – although I don't think he's even given them a glance – pretty much anything and everything short of murder is legal!" He clutched a handful of hair in his hand, revealing the zig-zag scar for just an instant.

For a moment, she realized that in Wizarding standards, Harry was actually rather smart. She realized this because she knew that no one on the other team would even consider a tactic like that. They'd all go playing the 'toss the ball through the hoops' game like usual.

"And you know what's worse?" he asked, looking straight at her, "I can't lose! There's no way I can even consider losing because we're playing Slytherin and Malfoy is their seeker. Losing would mean losing to Draco Malfoy!"

"What?" Ron yelled.

"He's somehow gotten himself on the team as the seeker. Apparently his father had given him quidditch lessons since he was a baby, and he's bribed the team with new brooms. He's probably bribed Snape as well, because he didn't seem to mind at all. I can't do anything about it…"

There was a moment of silence, before Ron spoke up.

"Hermione have you seen him on a broom?" Ron asked, and then considered, "well, no you haven't since you always study instead of coming with me to watch his practices…but take my word for it, he's amazing. He rides like he was born on a broom. There's no way Gryffindor can lose."

Hermione could detect the sincerity in his voice. She gave Harry a small pat on the back, "we believe in you, Harry. You'll do fine. Now let's get to class before we're late. Professor Quirrel marks the essays that were handed in first at the beginning, so we need to get there fast."

The change of topic back to schoolwork seemed to be cathartic. He nodded and followed her and Ron to Defense.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

The next day, Hermione found herself sitting alone in the Gryffindor stands, freezing cold and trying to wrap herself as comfortably as possible in her red and gold scarf. Ron was still in the broom sheds, cheering Harry up and assuring him that he would win no matter what.

She had chosen a spot that was the least likely to be crowded; the stands right next to the teacher's viewing area. Unfortunately, that left her sitting within an arm's reach of McGonagall, Quirrel, and Snape. She looked sideways to observe the teachers. McGonagall was sitting as straight as humanly possible, looking proudly at the Gryffindor team that was just about to exit the broom sheds. Quirrel was frantically moving around, probably due to the fact that he was freezing to death in his thin outer robes. Snape, on the other hand, was completely still. Not a muscle in his body was moving as he watched the Slytherin team. Occasionally, he bantered with McGonagall on the outcome of the game, but his stillness was unnerving.

"Hey," She turned to see Ron scurrying down the bench to where she was sitting, "why on earth did you get us spots all the way over here?"

"It's not crowded here," she replied, "and we can see better."

"But we're right next to the teachers…" He grumbled. He quieted down soon as the game began.

Watching a quidditch game was not nearly as fun as her roommates had made it out to be. Not only was she cold and uncomfortable, the players were like little flies in the air and she could barely see any of the action. She found herself blankly cheering whenever she heard people dressed in red cheering, and blankly frowning whenever the cheering came from people dressed in green. More often that observing the game, she found herself looking for Harry. Whenever she did catch glimpses of him, she found herself marveling at the quickness with which he operated the seemingly cumbersome broom. He flitted about searching for any hint of the snitch, but so far it had been in vain. The snitch had not shown itself since the beginning of the game when it was let go.

In the distance, Draco Malfoy was also searching. But instead of dedicating most of his time looking for the Snitch, he spent time watching Harry. Unlike Hermione's assessment, he was smart as well, and he knew exactly what tactic he was going to use.

"Where on earth is that bloody thing?" Ron complained from beside her, "what if it's gotten itself snagged in some wood?"

"I doubt it," she replied.

In the air, Harry had finally caught a single glimpse of gold. It was far down beneath the rafters. However, instead of blindly rushing towards it, he paused. He had already seen Malfoy eyeing him; it would do no good to lead him to it. Instead, he made a show of sighing and gripping his broom to descend slowly, as if going to search in a different area.

It was then that he felt a sudden jerk, as if a giant had pulled his broom to one side. He ground his teeth and brought his broom back into alignment, when the second push overtook him. The broom rushed towards his face faster than he could rise with it, giving him both a hit to the forehead and a more painful hit somewhere else. In one corner of his vision, Draco Malfoy sniggered. Growling, he pushed his broom back down, determined to get it back under control. No sooner had he got the broom straight again, it suddenly was pulled to one side. This time, he knew that he had definitely felt a pull, a person pulling. When he turned to look over to one side, the broom jerked to the other side, almost throwing him off.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Hermione, tugging at her arm.

"I don't know! Does this sort of thing happen when the rider is nervous?" She grasped at any sort of understanding.

"Never! It's never happened before…"

She looked around, remembering Harry's hypothesis that sabotage would be a good strategy. Draco Malfoy was on his broom laughing at Harry, but he didn't seem to have his wand in his hand and the brooms were checked before they were allowed into the playing field. Who would have a reason to do this? Definitely the Slytherins. Losing to an eleven year old seeker was probably a big hit to their pride. Therefore, Slytherins.

She looked over the Slytherin stands with her binoculars, squinting into them to observe every single Slytherin student. She looked for wands out, or muttered spells, or anything incriminating. She had just gotten through three rows of Slytherins when Ron tugged at her arm again.

"What is it? You made me lose count!" She complained. Ron pointed silently into the air.

Harry had been growing frustrated and slightly angry. He looked down and growled at his broom, gripping it as hard as possible. His hold had been so tight he could barely feel his fingers, and the humiliating laughter of Draco Malfoy was still haunting him. Oliver Wood had noticed him long ago, but there was nothing he could do and the Gryffindor beaters wouldn't be able to hold out without him. His felt a sudden, sharp pain in hands from keeping them clutched for so long, and had to let go for a moment.

In the fraction of a second that he had loosened his hold, the broom shot upward tail first, as if a giant had suddenly picked it up. Harry gripped again as hard as he could while the back of the broom rose sharply, sending him sliding off headfirst. Soon, the broom was standing vertical, tail up in the air. He knew he couldn't continue to hold if all his weight was based on his hands, elbows digging into his stomach. The only option was to flip over.

Making up his mind, he let go of the back of the broom with his legs, allowing himself to fall up and over the broom. He now had a tighter grip with his hands, but was hanging off the edge. He knew now that it was definitely an outsider that was doing this, brooms had never reacted like this on their own. It was most probably a spell, set on his broom. He desperately scanned the rest of the players, but they didn't seem to have their wands out, and the audience was too far away to see clearly. Looking down made him slightly sick, since he no longer had the comforting sight of a broom beneath him. If he fell, he would break more than a few bones. So he hung on as tightly as possible and waited for something to happen.

"No!" Hermione yelled. Ron was shivering beside her.

"Do something!" he told her, "aren't there any spells you can use?"

"I don't know!" She yelled out of desperation. Then she looked to one side and saw something. A shift of black robes. Professor Snape, who had been sitting in complete stillness, moved an inch. She looking up at his face, and her eyes widened. He hadn't been completely still, because his lips were moving, muttering something. She remembered in great detail the discussion she had with professor Flitwick on the first day of class. He had mentioned…that powerful wizards could do silent spells, without voicing the incantations. Was Professor Snape a powerful wizard? Undoubtedly. He radiated power, he was certain to know wordless magic. And plus, he was moving his lips, which probably made it easier even if he wasn't making any sound.

She pushed Ron's arm away, and took out her wand. There was little to nothing she could do to stop the spell itself, she had no clue what he was doing. But she could do something to stop him from doing it…

She subtlety thrust her wand underneath the stands, pointing it at professor Snape's robes, and whispered, "Confringo."

It was a new spell. She had only learned it a few days ago. But she was getting used to spell craft, and it worked. A small beam of fire leapt from her wand and collided with Snape's robes, igniting the material.

She then grabbed Ron's arm, "let's go further down."

As she dragged him down the stands, closer to where the rest of their house was sitting, she glanced back and saw that Snape had noticed the fire. Beside him, Quirrel was screaming in terror and McGonagall was using an Aguamenti to help him put it out. She looked back at Harry and saw that his broom was back to normal, and he was scrambling back onto it. _So it was Snape after all. _For the last time, she looked behind her to see if the fire was going out. It had already been put out. And Professor Snape was looking directly at her. Not with an angry look, but with a curious one. She turned around and shivered.

O.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Later, after the widespread celebration of Gryffindor's first victory of the year, Hermione finally found a chance to speak with Harry and Ron.

Their meeting took place in – of course – the library.

"Snape isn't exactly the well-behaved teacher he acts like," she explained in whispers, huddled around one of the fireside reading desks.

Ron sighed and glanced at Harry, "so it takes attempted murder to get her to believe us, does it?"

"I'm serious. He's not just a strict teacher; he's got it in for Harry. Just think about it. On the first day of class, he bullies Harry for not knowing things he wasn't supposed to know anyway. The he allows Draco Malfoy to get on the team even though – frankly – he was not nearly ready to be playing quidditch. He shouldn't have waited for second year at least. And then there's the event with the broom. It was him, I'm sure of it."

"No one's doubting you 'Mione. We believe you," Ron assured her, "but we can't do anything about it. He's a teacher."

"We can investigate," she suggested with a gleam in her eye, "we can find a way to spy on him."

Both of them looked at her in incredulity, "what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

"Think about it. If we find something incriminating we can use it to get him fired."

"There are rumors that's he's actually a spy for You Know Who. He was a death eater in the war," Ron added.

There was a moment of silence before both Hermione and Harry erupted, "why on earth didn't you tell us before?"

"I'm being taught by a death eater?" Harry moaned.

"They're only rumors. Dumbledore vouched for him after the war, he said that Snape had acted purely as his own spy, and wasn't really a death eater. But there's rumors that he actually took the mark and everything, and people say you have to really want the mark to take it," Ron explained.

"So if we can find evidence that he's still a death eater…"

"I wouldn't count on it. Many students have tried before, I've heard enough stories of students trying to spy on him. It never ends well, and even McGonagall is on his side. She'll believe pretty much anything Dumbledore tells her," Ron said.

Harry considered it, "but what if he's involved with this business with the dog?"

"You're committing a fallacy Harry. Just because we know that he's done one evil thing, doesn't mean we can blame him for all the evil in the world," Hermione interjected, "and we already know Hagrid is involved in that. I don't think they'd be willing to work together as a team so easily."

"But there was something else…" Ron said. They watched him expectantly when he failed to continue.

"I'm not sure of this…but I think I saw a bite on his leg, right after than troll business. When he came into the infirmary to check on Hermione, he was limping. I looked down and saw that he was bleeding in a crescent-shape from his left leg. It wasn't big enough to be a troll bite, a troll would've just bitten his leg off. It was like this."

Ron held his hands up, tracing the shape of the bite with his finger on his own leg. Both Harry and Hermione watched with interest.

"That's the same size as the dog's mouth. It bit him," Harry observed.

"It is. So he is involved with the dog. Except he's not on Hagrid's side. Hagrid's probably using the dog to hide something, while he's trying to get past it. He could've let the troll in to provide a distraction while he fought the dog," Hermione reasoned.

"But he failed, the dog woke up and bit him. But if Hagrid's using the dog to hide something…he knows how to get past it," Ron added.

They all looked to Harry expectantly.

The Boy Who Lived sighed, "Yes, I know what you're thinking. It won't take too long to get information out of him. In fact it'll probably take a few minutes. But he's still on his 'urgent business', and he won't be back for a while."

"When he gets back, we'll visit him and find out," Hermione decided.

"Why can't we just tell an adult," Ron groaned, "why on earth are we even getting involved?"

Hermione looked at him as if the answer was obvious, "why? Because it would take an incredible lack of curiosity not to."


	8. An Unlikely Detention

**Thank you for all the reviews! I hereby present: **

**Chapter 8**

"Gob Stones?"

"No."

"Wizard's Chess?"

"No."

"Come on, 'Mione, I'll teach you how to play the King's Gambit properly. You play it so terribly my grandfather would turn in his grave."

Hermione looked up from her computer's screen with a huff, "no, Ron. There's a Potion's essay due next week, I don't have time!"

In the Gryffindor Common Room, the redhead sitting on the couch opposite to her watched her with amusement, "I'm pretty sure there was a contradiction somewhere in that sentence."

"May I remind you, Ronald Billius Weasley, that you haven't even started your research yet?"

Ron looked over to Harry, "blimey Harry, she's turning into mum…"

"What I don't understand is why you're writing the essay on your computer," the boy who lived looked up from his book to glace at her curiously, "you can't hand that in to be marked. I don't think Snape is familiar with Muggle devices."

The pitter-patter of fingers pushing keys stopped for a moment.

"It's a rough draft. What if I make a mistake while writing it with ink? I'll have to scratch it off like the rest of you do and it'll look all messy and that may bias Professor Snape's judgment of my essay," she looked at Harry thoughtfully, "come to think of it, why don't you do the same? I mean, couldn't you bring your computer with you too? Wouldn't that be much easier? You were brought up by Muggles too."

Harry shrugged, "eleven year olds don't have computers or mobile phones Hermione, you're a little different. I've watched my cousin Dudley play games on his computer sometimes but he's spoiled, my relatives give him anything he wants. The other children in my school borrowed their parents computers sometimes but they didn't have ones of their own."

She fell into thought at that idea. According to the extensive research she had done in the library, muggleborns made up only zero-point-two percent of the wizarding population, and Hogwarts could expect to have around three or four muggleborns in a given year. Those statistics didn't hold good news for her love of science and technology, not at all. Her ideal of incorporating technology into her Wizarding life would have to wait.

A few minutes later, she sighed in relief and closed her laptop screen.

"I'm finally finished. Would either of you read it over? Just to edit?"

Two heads shook simultaneously. Neither of them was willing to read the five-foot long dissertation she was sure to have written.

"Fine, I'll edit it myself tomorrow and then write it out," she huffed, shoving the computer back into her book bag, "is Hagrid back yet? It's been a week and I haven't seen any sign of him."

She turned to Harry, who shrugged, "I went to see him on Monday. I think he hid inside a cupboard and pretended to not be at home," his voice trailed off. Suddenly, he sat up straight, "I have an idea." He tapped his chin, and then looked determinedly at the two of them.

"We need to make sure that Hagrid will see us. Sometime when he can't make excuses or hide. The last time we saw him…"

"No!" Hermione exploded, catching on to the idea he was proposing, "never in a million years. I am not doing this. I've ruined it once, and I'm still working on scraping what's left of my shattered record back together."

"What do you mean," Ron looked from Harry to Hermione, confused.

"He wants us to get detention," Hermione pointed a finger at Harry accusingly. Her hair was becoming frazzled by the very idea.

"…You're a genius harry! Never thought you had it in you, mate. That's brilliant!" Ron burst out, immune to Hermione's complaining. Somewhere deep inside his genetic code was an allele that screamed "Weasley twins", and it wasn't going to disappear anytime soon.

"But-"

Harry sighed. "Hermione it's our only choice right now. No one cares about a perfect record, everybody gets a detention now and then. We can do something small, like-"

"Blowing up Draco's cauldron?" Ron suggested.

"No." Harry told him firmly, "we'll just be late for class again."

"Just? JUST be late of class? Do you remember the look Professor McGonagall gave us that day? Do you remember the shame? The horror? The looks on everyone's faces when we made the grand walk of shame down to our seats? Do we really have to go through with that again?" Hermione moaned.

"It's not that bad. Fred and George even came by to congratulate me for almost-breaking their record," Ron tried to console her, "we got detention on our first day. They got detention on the train to Hogwarts. Apparently they had put a Zonko's Super Stink Bomb in the cabin of a prefect," he explained admiringly.

"That's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed. She turned to look at Harry, who was currently trying to make puppy eyes at her. It was so pathetically hopeless that she couldn't help but smile.

"Do it for the curiosity, Hermione. Do it for the curiosity, or live forever in the realm of mystery. Die an old woman, all alone, wondering what on earth that bloody dog was hiding," he pleaded.

It took a few minutes of pressured silence, but Hermione finally caved, sighing in defeat, "fine. We'll do it. But never again. Not ever."

Ron punched the air in happiness. He was probably more frightened of the dog than either of them, but the prospect of a little fun with the Professors was too appealing. Harry smiled and sat back in his chair.

"Tomorrow, then. First period on Wednesday is Transfigurations," they decided.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Wednesday, 8:05 am.

"Let's go, we're five minutes late already!" Hermione urged the two boys. The three of them were currently standing in a rather crowded broom closet. If they stood in the middle of the Great Hall they'd be shooed out, and a teacher would catch them if they decided to spend time walking in the hallways.

"We don't want to be there too early or she'll just take away House Points. We have to be at least ten minutes late," Harry advised.

"But…it'll take five minutes just to get there!"

"Hermione, the classroom is right across the hall. It'll take thirty seconds," Ron gave her a shove in the back, "don't worry so much. Calm down"

"How is shoving me in the back supposed to calm me down?"

Ron shrugged, "it works with my brothers."

"My point." Hermione whispered, "alright, let's go. We're eight minutes late. We can walk really slowly across the hall, if you like, and make it nine minutes."

Harry sighed and nodded, pushing the broom closet open. The classroom door was shut, class had already started. Feeling like criminals, the three first years crept across the hall and timidly pushed the door open. It swung with a loud creak that made Hermione cringe. When it was wide open, the class was silent, and professor McGonagall was staring straight at them.

"Mr. Potter, Mr Weasley, and Miss Granger. Is this becoming a repeated occurrence?" She said in her usual severe tone, "I happen to remember something like this happening just a few months back."

"We-" Ron began, but Hermione covertly stepped on his foot. Knowing him, the situation would only get worse. She had experience with dealing with teachers.

"Yes Professor. We're incredibly sorry. It'll never happen again. We're willing to accept another detention at Hagrid's." She looked so pitiful that anyone looking on would assume Hagrid was a monster that ate young girls for dinner. At her side, Harry nodded vigorously.

Professor McGonagall regarded them in silence for a while, and then spoke.

"Well, that seems to be a fitting punishment. However, Hagrid has been incredibly busy recently with some important matters that he has informed me of, so we will have to find another solution."

The three of them groaned inwardly. Hermione bit her lip in frustration, dreading the coming sentence.

"I think…yes. I believe Professor Snape is free this evening. Report to his office at six o'clock sharp for your detention. Now sit down so we may continue with our lesson. Page thirty-four of your textbooks, everyone."

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Never again am I trusting one of your ideas," Hermione fumed.

"Yeah, mate. This was uncalled for," Ron added.

"Our records are ruined," Hermione moaned.

"Completely ruined," Ron said.

"I'll never be able to look professor McGonagall – or Professor Snape – in the eyes again."

"S'alright 'Mione. Nobody but you looks him in the eyes anyway," Ron stated matter-of-factly.

"Everybody's going to think we're a gang of delinquents!"

"It'll be all over the school," Ron agreed, smiling slightly.

"We've created a permanent bias in our professor's minds! Don't you understand?"

"Yeah Harry, don't you understand," Ron snickered.

Hermione turned around and glared at the red-head, "the running commentary is not helpful, Ronald. You're just as much to blame, you were all for this idea."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Harry simpered, waving his hands in front of his face. They had finished their classes for the day and were back in the common room, where Hermione's mind was plagued with the events of the morning. She hadn't been able to concentrate for the entire day, and was taking her frustration out on her friends.

"Why don't we forget about this? There's no use crying over split milk, is there?" Harry added in hesitantly, "and detention is in ten minutes, so we should probably be heading down to the dungeons."

He turned to look at them. They both glared back.

"Fine. Since this was all my fault, I'll take full responsibility for finding a way to get to Hagrid's, and I'll learn everything possible about the dog. You can leave this mystery in my hands," he suggested.

They both nodded reluctantly and followed him out of the common room, headed for the Slytherin dungeons.

A few silent minutes later, three first years stood in front of a large door. The air was practically concentrated with apprehension, since they knew Snape was more harmful than simply another strict teacher. Hermione knew he had seen her set fire to his robes, the curious look on his face was not something she would forget.

"Alright, now we knock," she stated.

"Yes," both boys agreed.

She looked to both sides and found them watching her. Sighing, she raised her hand. Timidly, she rested it against the door. As soon as her hand touched the rough wood, the large door swung open, revealing their potions classroom. For a few seconds, the three of them stood and watched. Inside, the Hogwarts Potions Master was sitting at his table with sheets of parchment spread out in front of him. Hermione was hit with nostalgic images of past schools where her teachers had given her the opportunity to sit and mark younger students' essays with them. The very thought was unthinkable with Professor Snape.

"Are you three going to stand there, or are you going to come in for your detention?" A smooth voice asked. For a moment, they wondered if it was really Snape who had spoken, since he had not looked up at them.

The walked down the centre aisle to the front, where they stood in front of his desk like flies in front of a spider. He took his own sweet time to finish marking the essay in front of him, signing it off with a flourished 'T', before looked up at them. He considered them in silence.

"So Minerva has seen fit to ruin yet another evening with a needless distraction. How lovely," he drawled.

"We're incredibly sorry sir," she began immediately, "we got lost in the hallways."

He smirked, "so the Lost Girl had gotten lost again, has she? No portraits to guide you down the _direct hallway from your dorms to the Transfiguration's room_? Even though it is one door to the right of the Great Hall? You seem to have depleted any brainpower you possessed through those arduous essays," Hermione blushed, he turned to Ron, "ah, I think I may have found a suitable detention activity for Mr. Weasley."

At this, he reached into a pile of parchment on his desk and drew one out.

"This," he waved the parchment, "is your essay on cauldron maintenance. The very first major assignment in this class. It is such an irretrievable failure that I refuse to read past the fifth ink-blotched sentence. For the next three hours, you will sit right there," he pointed at a class seat directly in front of him, "and you will re-write this essay. Starting now." He shoved the roll of parchment into Ron's hands, and glared at the pale-faced boy until he took it and sat down where he indicated.

"If you make the academic climb up to the level of 'Troll', I will honestly be satisfied," he muttered. "The rest of you," he turned to Harry and Hermione, "will make yourselves useful by sorting the jars in the backroom alphabetically. A month of Potions classes with eleven-year-olds had taken its toll, and I doubt any of them will be in their correct places. Start at the top right shelf space and proceed horizontally. Needless to say, there will be consequences if anything breaks," he waved them off and turned back to his marking.

The two of them glanced guiltily at Ron, who was shaking in his boots, and turned to leave for the backroom. It was the place all the ingredients were stored in for the student's use. At the beginning of the year it had been perfectly sorted, but as student removed the jars and placed them back in the wrong places, it became harder and harder to find the ingredient needed. And now the task of handling the hundreds of glass and ceramic breakable jars fell to them.

"We could use magic," Harry suggested. They were in the room, faced with rows and rows of jars.

"I wouldn't risk it, Harry. If we lose concentration for just a second, something may drop and break," she said. "It's better to do it manually."

She regarded the shelves thoughtfully. "The best method would be to put them all on the floor sort-of-alphabetically with all the As in groups and so on, and then rearrange them back onto the shelved.

Harry groaned, "that'll take hours!"

"We have hours, Harry. Ron's going to be here for three hours, and we'd be horrible friends if we left him alone," she stated, "roll up your sleeves and started over there. I'll take this half."

So they worked. The room was a dusty old storage room, and the piles of dust in every corner caused them to sneeze repeatedly every time they approached the ends of the shelves. The shelves themselves were made of old wood, and creaked every time a jar was placed upon them, threatening to collapse and shatter many ingredient jars with it. They placed toad eyes on one shelf, and watered-down-aconite on other. Most of the time, they worked in silence, because any loud sound would definitely alert their professor. The worked in silence and felt a mountain of pity for Ron, who was sitting in front of Professor Snape sweating his pants off and trying not to blotch his ink so that his work would be readable.

"Alright, we've got the Gs done," Hermione wiped the sweat off her face, "let's make this more efficient with some assembly-line methods. Harry, you stand here and place the jars I give you onto the shelves, in order. I'll stay down here and pass them to you alphabetically," she instructed.

"So this way, I'm the only one in risk of breaking something," Harry deadpanned.

She shrugged, "alright, I'll put them on the shelves. But you had better get the sorting right, some of these labels are hard to read," she handed him a jar and stood by the shelves. Harry smiled and set to work on the piles of jars they had left on the floor.

"Ew, look at this," he handed her a jar which was filled with eyeballs, "I wonder when we have to use this."

"Fourth year, allergy cure," she muttered, taking the jar and placing it in its spot.

"You seem to really like Potions," he said.

"It's like chemistry. Except magical," she explained, "I've noticed that you're quite good at it, Harry. You've got quick hands."

"I haven't learned chemistry in school yet, but my aunt made my cook meals so I'm used to watching pots and working with ingredients," he told her, "I don't really like it though. Never liked cooking either."

"Then why did you do it," she asked.

He looked at her blankly, "I just told you, my aunt made me do it. She taught me when I was younger."

She looked at him curiously, "she taught an eleven year old how to cook? Isn't that dangerous?"

He shrugged and passed her a jar, "I never got harmed. I was good at it."

She let the subject drop after it seemed he wasn't going to say any more, and went back to working in silence.

After a while, Harry spoke again, "poor Ron."

"Yes," she agreed, "poor Ron."

"That was really mean, wasn't it?" He whispered, so the sound wouldn't travel to the front.

"Well, he did give him another chance. Most teachers would have just failed him," she said.

"Would've been easier than yelling at him and embarrassing him," Harry muttered.

"But he wouldn't have learned anything. Now maybe he'll take my essay advice more seriously," she added.

"That's true."

She turned a jar and happily noted that they had reached the Zs. There were only around ten jars to go. Harry picked up the pace upon seeing they were nearly finished, and passed jar after jar into her hands. When the floor was finally cleared, he stood up and stretched his neck.

"Finished. Should we go tell Snape now?"

Hermione walked to the door of the storage room and found that Professor Snape was already walked down the aisle towards the room.

"He's coming. And I think Ron's finished," she stated.

A few seconds later, the Potions Master entered the room. He was met with two grimy first years who stood proudly in front of a completely ordered shelving system. Arms folded, he looked around, and trailed his finger across a line of jars, turning them and checking for labels.

"It seems you are finished. You may go, take Mr. Weasley with you," he instructed. Harry gratefully half-ran out of the room, heading to the front where Ron was standing. Hermione hesitated.

She looked towards Snape, who was still turning jars, checking that their work had been done perfectly. The memory of his look after she had set fire to his robes still lingered in her mind, and she realized that he hadn't said anything about it since. He hadn't identified her as the perpetrator, even though she had attacked a teacher and he had seen it.

"Sir," she began, "about what happened at the Quidditch match…when your robes caught fire," she hesitated, wondering what on earth she was supposed to say.

He immediately turned to look at her with the same curious look in his eyes. He regarded her silently for a few minutes before speaking.

"No harm was done to me," he replied, "however, you are correct to apologize. Your aim is terrible." With that he gave the room one last look, and left.

Hermione trailed out of the room after him, wondering what on earth he had meant.


	9. A Problematic Quirrel

**Happy New Year! May your writing be ever prosperous, and thanks for the reviews!**

**I'm glad you think i've captured their 11-year-old mentality. Many fics i've seen have eleven year old Harry, Hermione, and Ron acting too mature beyond their years. They are children and Hermione in particular is arrogant and stuck-up, but she's eleven. She'll mature, that's what I hope to accomplish writing. Read on:****  
**

**Chapter 9**

"He meant something by it, Harry. He knew something I didn't."

"Are you sure those were his exact words?" Harry asked.

They were back in the Gryffindor Common room. The previous day had seen them walk wearily back to their dorms at nine and collapse into their beds without a word. Ron seemed to be scarred for life, and Harry and Hermione had aching arms from jar-lifting and scratched knees from kneeling on the cold stone floor. Snape's words in particular hadn't left Hermione's thoughts, and she'd told her friends what he'd said as soon as classes were over.

"I don't care what he meant, Snape is the largest git I've ever met. Those three hours were pure mental torture," Ron shivered, "my hands were shaking, and he kept _looking up _at me every half an hour. I'm starting to believe those vampire rumors, I think I saw his eyes turn red…"

"Oh shut it, Ron. You know as well as we do that he gave you a second chance. He does practice tough-love but without it, you would've failed that essay. It was the first major essay of the year, too. You're incredibly lucky he saw fit to finally give you an 'Average' after your re-writing," Hermione snapped, "next time, you can ask me to revise before you hand something in, I'll be happy to."

The red-head nestled further into the pile of pillows on the couch and pouted. Harry gave him a look of pity and then turned to her.

"The meaning is obvious Hermione, he thought you were aiming for someone else," he stated.

"I know that much, but who? And why?"

Harry rubbed his forehead in thought. "Well, maybe he thought that you thought that he thought-"

"Harry that's confusing, use some different verbs," she interrupted.

"Alright then. He thought that you figured out that someone else was the person using the spell to make me fall off my broom. If he had really been the one to curse my broom, he would've known that you were aiming for him. So we can only assume that he wasn't the person cursing me, and that he knew it was someone beside him, and he thought you were aiming for them," Harry explained, "who were the teachers sitting next to him?"

Hermione recalled the memory of the game, "Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Quirrel. Professor Flitwick was too far away, but he's a possibility as well."

"I think we can rule out Dumbledore. He adores me," Harry began.

"And I remember Professor Flitwick not being distracted at all by the fire. He was close, but it didn't reach him."

"Then it's either McGonagall or Quirrel."

She gasped, "why on earth would McGonagall want to kill you, Harry? She's a Gryffindor and you're on her team!"

"Oi, wasn't here another option?" Ron added, his voice muffled by pillows.

"Professor Quirrel? Really? He's a failure of a Defense teacher and he couldn't harm a fly even if it had wronged him in some horrible way. He can't even cast a Protego properly, not to mention an advanced magical-object-altering curse," Hermione deduced.

"Someone else could have taught him and put him up to it," Harry added, "he's not a Gryffindor, and he doesn't like me."

"How do you know that? He hasn't treated you any differently like Snape did" Ron asked, pushing the pillows away.

"When I first came to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, I saw him at the tavern. He looked all shifty and refused to shake my hand, just like Draco Malfoy and his kind refuse to shake the hands of Muggleborns and the people they call 'blood-traitors'. He clearly didn't like me very much," Harry explained, "he had something against me."

"Or maybe he just had a contagious disease and didn't want to contaminate the boy who lived?" Ron suggested.

There was a moment of silence before Hermione spoke.

"That is not possible for so many reasons, Ron. But we need to verify this before we proceed to suspect him. We need to verify that he doesn't like you."

"How do we do that?"

"Well, Harry, you claim that he refuses to touch you, and this shows that he doesn't like you. We'll have to see if that's true. We can find a way to make you touch him and see how he reacts," she decided.

"And how are we supposed to do that? He always just sits at the front and assigns textbook work."

"You can touch his hands while you give him something. Like handing over a piece of parchment, or a quill, or a book," she thought out loud, "leave the situation to me and Ron. We'll make up reasons, and you can just reach for his hand when we give you a reason."

"Me?" Ron asked, "how?"

"We have some planning to do, Ron…"

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Friday, 8:30 am: Middle of first period DADA.

"Ready, Ron?" She whispered to the boy sitting beside her.

"This isn't going to work…" he mumbled back.

Hermione gave him a quick glare and covertly took out her wand, keeping it out of sight. Ron sighed and leaned past her, pretending to pick up an inkwell on the other side of her desk. While his form was covering her arm, and quickly waved her wand and uttered a silent 'Wingardium Leviosa'.

Ron retreated back to his seat, his cover work finished. A set of quills on the edge Professor Quirrel's desk began to float a mere three millimeters off his desktop, slowly moving to the edge and toppling off its surface. The lengths of the quills were enforced with metal for better grip, so they made a clanging noise upon hitting the ground.

Professor Quirrel jumped in his seat at the sound, peering all around his desk. The rest of the class, who had been silently doing textbook questions, looked up at him. They went back to their work upon seeing it was only a bunch of fallen quills.

Harry, who was sitting at the very front today, looked back at her for acknowledgement. She nodded quickly. He looked up and jumped out of his seat.

"Here, Professor, let me get that for you," he ran over to the front where the quills had fallen and picked them up. He held them out to Quirrel, gesturing for him to take them.

"T-thank you Mr. P-potter. Leave them t-there," the professor indicated the spot on his desk where they had been. Harry hesitated before placing them down and going back to his seat. He gave Hermione a hopeless look on the way back. Their Professor clearly had a well-defined bubble of private space around him; there was no way someone could get close enough to touch his hands.

She sat and thought for a while, not even bothering with the useless textbook questions they were supposed to do. Clearly they couldn't hand him anything, he would just tell them to put the items down. He didn't need to personally dislike someone to say that. But how else? She tapped her quill against her chin while she thought. Tap tap tap.

"Hermione," Ron whispered from beside her, "Hermione what are you doing? You're getting ink all over yourself."

She paused and then realized there was a dot of sticky liquid on her chin, she'd used the tip of the quill instead of its feathers, treating it like a pen. Pen tapping was a habit of hers, after all. Suddenly she found an idea. The ink…

"Ron, we're going to get ink on him," she whispered back while wiping her chin with a handkerchief, "or, more specifically, Harry's going to get ink on him, and then wipe it off."

"Sounds alright," Ron agreed slowly, "but how is he going to spill ink on him?"

"He's about to give back the essay on Druids that he assigned two weeks ago, Harry can conveniently spill some ink on Quirrel's hands while he hands his paper back," she said quietly. The other students had begun to chatter so their voices were concealed.

Ron nodded, and she reached forward and poked Harry in the back. He turned around to look at her, and she whispered the plan to him. He nodded once, and turned back.

"A-alright, c-class. I'll hand back t-those essays, I've m-marked them a-already," Professor Quirrel reached into his drawers and pulled out a pile of parchment. The essays. He took them and then stood up, going around the room. He walked to the desk of Hannah Abbott and placed a sheet of parchment on it. He did the same with five more students. The he came to Hermione's desk, and handed her essay back.

She looked eagerly for the mark, and smiled in satisfaction at the clear 'O' that had been marked on it. Pushover teachers were easy-markers. She looked to her side to see Ron holding up an essay marked with an E. He seemed ecstatic.

Eventually, Quirrel reached Harry's desk. She noticed that he seemed to be staying a little farther away from his desk than from the others, but that could've just been a coincidence. Harry looked rather nervous at the prospect of what he was about to do, but he bravely followed thought, managing to reach for his paper and knock his inkwell over at the same time. Ink spattered all over Quirrel's robes, and quite a bit landed on his other hand, the one holding the rest of the essays.

The professor jumped and dropped the rest of the essays into the puddle of ink on the floor in shock. He looked at his hand in dismay. Harry immediately took his chance and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

"I'm so, so sorry Professor Quirrel. Here, let me," he gestured out with his handkerchief. Quirrel immediately pulled his hand back.

"T-that's not n-necessary, Mr. P-potter-"

"No, no, Professor. If it stays on for too long it'll…enter your bloodstream! And we don't want that to happen," Harry reached for the professor's hands with the cloth while the other students looked on curiously.

"No!" Professor Quirrel backed off and looked at the handkerchief as if it were a dangerous animal, "No, I'm f-fine!"

"Here just let me-" He reached out and tried to wipe the ink off his hands. He had just touched them with the cloth when the professor took a large step back.

"Mr. P-potter-"

"I'm just trying to help, sir!" Harry leapt out of his seat and promptly slipped in the puddle of ink.

Unfortunately, he had still been reaching out with the handkerchief, so he managed to catch Professor Quirrel's sleeve in the last moment. For a second he felt steady, and then he slipped once again, dragging the professor down with him.

Hermione looked on as if in slow motion as her friend and her Defense Professor both fell into the puddle of ink, a large tangle of limbs. Somewhere along the way, the professor had drawn his hands into his sleeves, as if protecting his skin from exposure. They both landed in a tangle on the floor. The rest of the class looked on, amused.

They lay still for a second before Quirrel suddenly and violently struggled to get free. His long robes were wet and tangled with Harry's, but he somehow managed to pry himself free. He took one look back at Harry, who was still covered in black ink, and started screaming.

His was a strange scream. If his voice was high, his screaming was even higher. It was at such a pitch that it was scary by itself. Hearing this, Harry, who was a mere half a meter in front of him, began to scream as well.

Still screaming, the professor leapt up with his hands still concealed in his robes and ran to the front of the classroom. Harry pushed himself out of the ink puddle and tried to salvage the situation by approaching him with his handkerchief. It would have been a nice gesture, if the handkerchief were not just as inked up as he was. Seeing this, Quirrel shrieked even louder and ran out of the room. Hermione later heard that he had run all the way to his room, leaving footprints of ink down the hallways.

Harry simply stood there, not knowing what to do. The rest of the class ceased their giggling and erupted into full-blown laughter instead. He sighed and turned to Hermione, who nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. Clearly, their plan had worked far better than assumed.

"That was brilliant, mate! Did you see the look on his face when he ran away screaming?" Ron guffawed, "priceless! The Defense professor is scared of a little boy!"

He'd said it loud enough for the class to hear, and the laughing increased. At this, Hermione stood up, trying to repress a smile.

"I think we can consider class dismissed," she declared, unable to hold back a tiny giggle.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

The evening was filled with rumors on Professor's Quirrel's strange fear of Harry Potter. The man in question tried vehemently to never look another student in the eye again, and Harry denied every strange story that the rumors mill of Hogwarts churned out.

As soon as class was dismissed, Harry had excused himself for the rest of the day, and opted to spend some time in his dorm bathroom, scrubbing himself clean of ink. By the time Hermione and Ron returned, he was sitting on a sofa in the Common Room with a new edition of the Daily Prophet, squeaky clean and still pink-skinned from his bath.

"Hermione, Ron, you're back. If you don't mind, I need to borrow today's notes," he held his hand out. She reached into her book bag and handed him some sheets of bound parchment that the Wizarding World used in lieu of notebooks.

"Here, I used a copying charm to transfer images of my notes. You can keep these," she told him.

He took the sheets gratefully and put them away, "so, we have some new information. And I have good news."

"Yes, I don't think there's any more doubt about Quirrel disliking you, mate," Ron agreed.

"Harry I don't think he hates you, I think he's downright terrified of you," Hermione interjected with a small smiled, "you don't run away screaming when someone you _dislike _touches you. He's scared of you. But I still think we have our suspect for the Quidditch match incident. What's the good news you mentioned?"

"I got us a meeting with Hagrid," he explained proudly, "he wasn't expecting me in the middle of the day, and he couldn't exactly make any excuses. He said we can go see him today at six."

"That's wonderful! Finally, some headway."

"Yes. And I also did some actual research," he smiled and reached into his bag, "I did tell you I'd take care of it, didn't I? Here, take a look at this," he reached into his bag and pulled out a library book, "Magical Objects of Ancient Lore". It was one of the older ones, and some pages were falling out. She took it gingerly and opened it. Ron peered over her shoulder.

"Look at the page that I've doggy-eared."

"Harry you can't fold pages like that, it ruins the book!' She exclaimed, opening to a page with the very tip folded over.

"No body cares, 'Mione. It's just a book," Ron looked over and read the subheadings. Before she could express her shock at his statement, he spoke again.

"The Philosopher's Stone?"

"What?" She looked at the page. There was a picture of a shining stone, and the title of the section read "Philosopher's Stone".

"When I went to see Hagrid today, it took a little convincing before I could convince him to let us come over. Before he agreed, he mumbling something like 'Flamel is no' gonna like this…'," he explained, "I knew he was talking about the dog, so I went to the library and did some research."

"Oh Harry I'm so proud," Hermione beamed, "so what's this?"

"Most of the books on Nicholas Flamel are in the restricted section, so I couldn't access them. This was all I found on related to him," he told them.

"Nicholas Flamel…" she muttered, "the name sounds familiar. But I can't recall where I've heard it before," she looked at the page and began to read, "_created by the Magician Nicholas Flamel, the Philospher's Stone is an object of great power. Few know whether it even exists, but legends claim the stone can bestow immortality. Some say its creator, Flamel, has been using its powers and is still alive today. _That seems to be all it says."

"We'll find out more about it from Hagrid. It's not hard to get him talking," Ron decided, "I think we should start now, it's almost quarter to six."

They nodded and made their way out of the Common Room. The walk down the hallways was slightly unpleasant for Harry. Many of the other students were watching him with either curiosity for what had happened, or a new respect for having bested a professor and scared his pants off. Harry himself was worried if Defense lessons would ever be normal again.

They got to Hagrid's hut at just on time, not wanting to waste a single moment. After three sharp knocks on his door, the giant man finally opened it and welcomed them in.

"Ya know, Harry, Hermi-nee, an' Ron, I've got a surprise for ya," he announced as soon as they were all seated. The three of them watched his quizzically. They knew a distraction-tactic when they saw one.

They forgot all about their purpose, however, when Hagrid opened a small box that had been on the table. From inside, they first heard a small snort. Then, slowly, a nose peaked out. A very reptilian nose. It took only seconds for a miniature dragon to emerge from the box.

"Meet Norbert, ya know what he is?"

"A dragon," Hermione breathed. She'd heard of them in all the muggle stories, and she'd read books about them in the Wizarding World as well. Enough to know they were illegal to grow out of specified nesting areas with ministry-certified Dragon Keepers. The punishment being imprisonment.

"Ain't he a beauty?" The giant asked endearingly.

"He's lovely, Hagrid, but it's dangerous to keep him here," she replied.

"Yeah, one day he'll be larger than this house," Ron added.

Hagrid's eyes seem to fall at this, but he kept up his hopes, "we'll take care o' everything when it happens, 'rite, Norbert?"

The baby dragon stomped around on the table, making small noises. He looked curiously at the three first years. Dragons were trained to recognize their guardians, but new humans were always a mystery. He went around to sniff them.

"Just lemme keep him fer a while, he won't do any harm to anyone," Hagrid reassured. The look on his face was so pitiful neither of them would've dreamed of telling on him.

The three of them sighed, and nodded slowly, wondering what they were getting into.

"Great! Now that we've got that sorted, Norbert," he rubbed the baby dragon on its head, "show 'em what you can do."

The dragon, as if understanding, sat down, concentrated, and blew out a little puff of smoke. It then sat back, looking extremely proud of itself. Hagrid laughed heartily.

"He's getting there. One day he'll be a great big dragon and sweep the lands with his fire," he continued laughing.

The three of them winced and watched the creature carefully. Ron was the only one who had any knowledge of dragon, courtesy of his Dragon Keeper brother Charlie, but he had only ever seen large ones. The eggs were guarded by the wild dragons, and almost impossible to steal.

"Hagrid," he asked slowly, "where did you get the egg for this dragon? It can't be more than a day old."

"Some old man in Diagon Alley handed it over. All he wanted was a lil' bit of talking, and then he gave Norbert to me," the half-giant said, looking pleased with himself.

"…And who was this man you speak of?" Hermione asked. Beside her, Harry and Ron looked just as curious.

"I dunno, he disappeared," Hagrid shrugged his large shoulders, "now it's gettin' late. Better be off to bed."

"Hagrid it's half past six. Curfew isn't until nine. We still wanted to ask you about some things," Harry interjected, knowing Hagrid's distraction plan well.

The half-giant sighed, "listen, I dunno how you know all o' this, but it's not business fer youngsters like yerselfes. It's dangerous."

"Just tell is about Nicholas Flamel," Hermione asked.

"Well…" He looked into their curious faces, "alright. Just once. Nicholas Flamel was one of the greatest sorcerers alive. Almost as great as Merlin himself, he was. Him an' Perenelle, they were always searchin' fer knowledge. Back in the day, they didn't have Potions or Transfiguration, Instead, they had alchemy. Flamel and his wife were the greatest alchemists alive, but they had two goals. One was the goal of every alchemist of the day, turnin' common metals like copper inter gold. The other…" At this he hesitated, but their stares forced him to continue, "the other goal was to become immortal. To live forever, and never die. Legends say Flamel did it, him and Perenelle Flamel used Alchemy to live longer than any other human. That's all anyone knows about him." He stopped.

The three of them waited for him to go on, but he didn't.

"Well tell us how this is connected to the dog, Hagrid," Hermione insisted.

"I can't. I barely know anything myself. Professer Dumbledore's the one with the knowledge," he put his hands up, "now I really think you should go."

"Is it the stone? The Philosopher's Stone? Is the dog hiding that?" Ron burst out.

For a while there was silence, and Hagrid didn't move an inch.

"So it's true. But how did Dumbledore get past the dog?" Harry asked.

"Well if ye know its weakness ye ca-" The half giant suddenly realized what he was saying and closed up, "I really think ye three should get back now. I've already told ye far more than I'm supposed to."

They thought of insisting more, but they realized that Hagrid wouldn't say any more.

"Thanks for letting us visit, Hagrid. We had a great time," Harry smiled, standing up.

"Of course. You can visit anytime you want, Harry. That goes for the rest of ye too. Just don't get yerselves into danger," he nodded and sent them off.

The way back to the dorm was mostly silent. Hagrid hadn't given them much relevant information on Nicholas Flamel. He had, however, given them an important clue. He had revealed that the Cerberus had a weakness, and that one could use this to sneak past it.

"This weakness is probably documented somewhere in a book. I've heard that the Restricted Section has information in depth on all magical creatures," Hermione said, walking fast.

"But it's Restricted," Harry protested.

"Yes Harry I got that part. But there must be something we can do," she complained.

"For now I think I'm going to work on that Potion's Essay that's due next week," Ron added in.

"Oh, and when I did it a week early I was an annoying swot." She huffed.

"This is Snape we're talking about, 'Mione. I now know the true extent of his evil," the red-head shuddered, "we can always do this investigating later, but my Essay can't wait."

So they went back to the Gryffindor Common Room and sat around the fire doing their homework, the issue of the Cerburus completely leaving their attention.


	10. A Duel at Midnight

**I'd apologize for being late...but this chapter is huge. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 10**

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk in though. Thinking was something he had to do quite frequently, what with all the titles that trailed after his name, but recently he had been doing a lot of it.

"Headmaster you know as well as I do that something is wrong," said Severus Snape. The Potions Master was currently pacing around his office, twirling his wand with long, thin fingers, "just let me do something!"

"For once I am in full accord with Severus. This has become too suspicious to ignore," McGonagall stated.

"I'm sorry I didn't really hear anything past 'and Quirrel screamed'. Could you repeat all of that?" Headmaster Albus Dumbledore asked his two trustees politely.

"The Potter boy seemed to be insistent on wiping some spilled ink off his hands, and Quirinus became suddenly frightened. He dug his hands into his robes and left the room, yelling as he went," Snape explained dryly, "I took the liberty of going over the memory a few times, and I've come to the conclusion that Quirinus didn't want Potter to touch his skin. You know as well as I, Headmaster, the various magical practices that require skin contact in some way. This is highly suspicious."

"Going over the – Severus what have I told you about using Legilimency on the students!" McGonagall exclaimed.

"Nothing that I do not plan to discard, Minerva," the stoic man replied with a small smirk.

McGonagall seethed, but turned to Dumbledore to address the greater issue at hand. The older wizard sat silently at his desk, hands in a steeple below his chin. Truthfully, he had always suspected Quirrel of something like this, it had been part of the greater plan. He knew that Riddle was still alive, but he needed to know what sort of form he was in, so that he could alter his plans accordingly. A fully formed, reincarnated wizard would be much harder than a shadow being trapped within an object like he suspected. The Philosopher's Stone was the perfect bait; dear Tom would come prancing in and reveal his true form to the magical detectors that had been set up around the castle. When Quirrel had applied so readily for the job, he knew the man was probably associated with the dark lord, but he had thought him to be simply another weak follower, maybe a scout. Now that the man had revealed that some sort of contact-magic was at work, it was much more dangerous to allow him to continue. But for the moment, there was something else to consider.

"Severus, show me the memory you took from Gregory Goyle," he instructed. The Potions Master looked him in the eyes and pushed down his mental shields, allowing him to access the memory.

"So? What should we do," McGonagall asked, seeing that the Headmaster had finished viewing it.

"If I may wonder, young Harry seemed rather...persistent in his treatment," he put delicately.

"I believe that may be the Granger girl's doing. She suspects professor Quirrel to be the one who cursed Harry's broom during the Quidditch match," Snape responded.

"How did she know?"

"She looked in our direction and probably saw Quirrel incanting. Then, she oh-so-subtly started a fire where we were, probably to distract him. The fire ended up on my robes, but I'm quite sure the girl suspected Quirrel because she tried to apologize to me later on," he explained.

"Ah," the headmaster said brilliantly, "that explains it. She's quite intelligent, isn't she? I remember her storming in here demanding to be placed in Ravenclaw," he chuckled.

"She's not a complete dunderhead," Severus conceded.

"On the contrary, she's rather sharp. Once she grows out of her arrogance she'll be a fine witch," McGonagall added.

"Of course. Severus, Minerva, I want you both to keep a sharp eye on Quirinus and Harry. Severus, since you know him you may talk to him and try to get more information on what happened," he decided.

The Potions Master nodded and left the office.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

On the other side of the castle, three first years were holding their own secret meeting in the Gryffindor common room before class.

"Come on Harry, it won't be that bad," Hermione coaxed, tugging at the sleeve of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Yeah mate, you can't fail the class," Ron said.

The boy in question whimpered, and sank deeper into the couch, "I know but…it'll be so embarrassing! Just imagine it! I'll probably fail anyway, he hates me!"

"You won't know until you get there," she told him, "now get up, class starts in five minutes and we're running late." With the help of Ron, she managed to drag Harry off the couch and out of the Common Room.

"I never want to set eyes on him again! Never!" The Boy Who Lived screamed as they dragged him down the hall. They remained persistent in their treatment and soon he was placed firmly in his seat in the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, shivering in his boots and dreading the moment Quirrel would walk in. Hermione sat down next to him and patted his arm comfortingly, which did absolutely nothing to calm him.

Soon, the doors of the classroom squeaked open with a small squeal and their nerve racked defense professor walked in, taking a look around to check if anyone was absent, and stood by his desk. On a usual day (eg: every day ever) he would usually write some textbook problems tentatively on the blackboard and settle down in his seat to mark or read, but today he made no movement towards the board. The class watched him in anticipation.

"Good M-Morning class. T-Today we will be doing something d-different. I would l-like to introduce you to your v-very first d-defense spell. You will be learning a b-basic protego", he paused and reached up to straighten his turban. "C-can anyone t-tell me what this spell d-does?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air, as high as always. The rest of the class watched their professor curiously, wondering what on earth had prompted him to actually teach. At Quirrel's slight nod, Hermione began to speak.

"Protego means 'protect', and it is a spell that creates a sort of temporary force field around the caster. The strength of the force field is strongly dependant on the caster's magical technique and the power placed into the spell. It can be very easy to perform a simple protego, but blocking more advanced attack spells with it can be difficult," she finished proudly.

Quirrel gave her a shaky nod and continued, "that is c-correct. I do not expect you to p-perfect it yet, but you will t-try. This is the wand movement," he took out a long pine wand that had previously remained in his robes and had never shown itself until now, and demonstrated the swishing sequence, pronouncing an even 'protego'. Nothing seemed to happen.

"Mister l-longbottom, could you hit me with a simple h-hex?" He asked. Neville nodded and sent a tentative Jelly-Legs jinx at him. The jinx was probably the worst aimed jinx ever since Quirrel had to actually step into its way to get it to hit him, but even once he did, the spell dissipated evenly across the thin, invisible shield he had put up.

"The p-protego shield d-drove off the jinx," Quirrel explained, lowering his wand, "w-who would like to t-try it first?"

A gathering of Inferi couldn't have been more still and silent.

"Ah, M-Mister P-Potter. Thank you for v-volunteering," Quirrel mumbled out, looking straight at Harry.

"Me, sir? But I didn't-"

"Yes, you'll make a fine example. Come up, M-Mister Potter."

He looked sideways at Hermione, giving her a desperate '_it wasn't me' _glance. She nodded, knowing well that he didn't volunteer at all, but still gave him a little push off the seat. He stood up on shaky feet, walking towards the front fully prepared for full-blown humiliation, probably Quirrel's revenge from the day before.

As he stood up front, Quirrel approached him and pointed his wand at him, "Mister Potter, please perform the Protego spell, and we will see if you have accomplished it."

Harry gulped and mumbled a weak 'Protego', hesitantly making the correct wand movements. After he had finished, Quirrel immediately raised his wand and firmly uttered, "tarrantellegra!"

Without a moment's hesitance, Harry's feet began to move. In a matter of seconds, he was dancing uncontrollably, skipping and leaping into the air, doing pirouettes and sudden tango moves.

"My legs! They won't-"

"Yes Mister Potter, it seems you have not preformed the Protego spell correctly", Quirrel observed, making no move to help Harry, whose legs were still dancing. Hermione seethed at the unfairness, anyone who had read the books would know that tarrantellegra was an indirect jinx, and could not be stopped by a weak protego even if he had done it properly.

"Finite Incantatem," Hermione finally said, wand pointed at Harry. He stopped dancing and sent her a relieved look.

"Well then, let's see if my tutelage will help you better perform it," Quirrel spoke with a small, almost imperceptible smirk. He walked over to Harry, and reached out for his wand. The class watched in confusion as he enveloped the boy's small hand with his own, directing the proper wand movements. Harry watched in even more confusion as the professor clearly came into skin to skin contact, not showing any of the previous signs of disgust. In fact, his help was making the spell seem easier.

"…understood, Mr. Potter?" The professor asked after demonstrating it twice more.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied with a small nod, retrieving his hand. He walked back to his desk, giving Hermione and Ron strange looks, and sat down. The rest of the class went by smoothly, he left them to practice the spell by themselves.

Nobody had noticed exactly when he had stopped stuttering.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Over the next few weeks, Quirrel's strange behavior continued. Whispered rumors throughout the building speculated on how and why their stuttering DADA professor had suddenly grown a backbone. More troublingly, he had decided that Harry was to be his target. At least once per week he would use the poor boy for a demonstration, until it was well known that anyone who targeted the defense professor's wrath would not be easily pardoned, and would end up like 'the poor Potter boy'.

On the other hand, Snape and McGonagall were taking their duties and Dumbledore's left and right hands seriously. Snape seemed to have become Quirrel's permanent shadow, and Harry felt McGonagall's eyes on his back wherever he went.

Soon the first snow fell and the curious DADA events eventually led to three agitated first years conversing in whispers during Potions class over whether Quirrel was evil. Hermione, being the multi-tasker that she was, was keeping an eye on the preparation of their Pain Relief potions while they talked.

"Maybe it's not actually Quirrel. Maybe someone…made a Quirrel-shaped doll and gave it life," Harry suggested, "can you do something like that with Magic?"

Hermione sighed, "create life? Oh yes, there's some old – ahem, false – legends about some potions that can animate bodies."

Harry's eyes lit up, "really? What do they require?"

"According to the untried, untested, recipe that clearly is there for mythical purposes only, it's fairly simple," she drawled, "all you need is butober leaves, pine sap, and a human sacrifice."

"…well it probably wouldn't work anyway," Harry conceded, "more importantly, Snape's looking this way," he glanced briefly at the Potions Master, who was walking around while the class worked on their potions. He had stopped to stare at the three of them.

They hurriedly went back to their work, but Snape had already seen Hermione stirring all three cauldrons. The two of them quickly took up their stirring rods while their Professor walked over to them.

"Misters Wesley and Potter, why is it that Miss Granger seems to be occupying herself with three cauldrons instead of one?" He gave them a cold glare.

"Sorry sir, they were about to do something wrong so I took over," Hermione quickly stated. It wasn't quick enough. Snape's eyes turned towards her, and she suddenly felt strange. His gaze was fixed on her, as if he were studying her. After three seconds, he looked away and left.

"…Well. That was strange," she whispered.

"Merlin Hermione, I think I wouldn't have just frozen solid," Ron whimpered.

Suddenly, Hermione felt her book bag vibrate slightly. She smiled and reached in, shifting through her dozens of books until she found the small device at the bottom of her bag. Still grinning, she brought her mobile out and flipped it open, noting the next message.

"Is it from your parents?" Harry asked curiously. He was already used to seeing her with her mobile phone; she never parted with it. Ron looked over her shoulder and read the message from the small screen.

"Yes, they want to know where to pick me up for the Winter holidays. I've already told them that I want to celebrate Christmas at home, I've never spent it anywhere else", she confirmed while typing a reply into the device.

"I've got to stay at Hogwarts this Christmas. Mum and dad are visiting my brother Charlie abroad," Ron told her dejectedly, "but at least I'll have Harry for company."

"Do you two want to come visit? I'll show you all the technology I've been talking about," she invited.

"Sound's great! My mum probably won't agree but my dad'll convince her, if only to hear all about muggle things," Ron grinned.

Harry gave them a smile that looked a little forced, "I'd love to, but I'm not sure my relatives will let me."

At that moment, they felt a presence behind them. More than one. They turned to see Draco and his minions standing a few feet away, finished and bottled potions in their hands.

"Look what the mudblood's holding. It's muggle filth! Careful Crabbe, Goyle, don't want to get too close to it," he sneered.

Hermione bit her lip in annoyance, "I'll have you know that this allows me to communicate with people far away, farther than any magic can permit."

"Yeah, because Muggles need everything they can get!" The blond sneered again. It was almost a daily occurrence these days in Potions class, so she was immune to the insults. Snape always seemed conveniently positioned on the other side of the room, although Hermione could detect some reluctance from him, which greatly confused her.

"Sod off Malfoy," Harry stated between clenched teeth. She could see that he blamed himself for their enmity with Malfoy, due to his refusal of the blond boy's friendship. Every time, he tried as hard as he could to shield his friends from the taunts.

"Why, Gryffindork? Is talking all you can do?"

It sounded vaguely hypocritical coming from him.

Hermione turned to see that Harry was visibly agitated. For the first time, he seemed to be genuinely angry. She figured that it would be better to stop it before it got too far.

"Just leave us along Malfo-"

"I challenge you to a Wizard's duel, Potter."

There was a moment of silence after that statement. It hadn't been said very loudly, but everyone in the nearby vicinity had heard it. She opened her mouth to tell the Slytherin boy that there was no way they were fighting, but Harry beat her to it.

"I accept."

What?

Draco broke into a crooked smile, "and who will be your second?"

Hermione saw Ron open his mouth, and sensed disaster. She did the only thing she could.

"I will be."

All five of them turned to look at her. Ron looked like he was in shock at what the rule-abiding girl had just agreed to. Draco turned to look back at his two goons, as if contemplating which one seemed even vaguely up to the task. Finally, he reached out, grabbed Crabbe's tie, and pulled him forward.

"Crabbe will be my second. Meet me tonight at the darkest hour in the Trophy Room," he smirked and turned away.

After a brief silence, all three spoke at once.

"You idiot-"

"Hermione!-"

"Stop-"

They all paused.

"Now, before you all start yelling at me, would someone please explain what exactly a 'Wizard's Duel' is?"

Hermione and Ron both looked at the Boy-Who-Lived in silence. Finally, Ron answered him.

"It's a fight of magic between two wizards for the purpose of honor."

"And what exactly is a second?"

"They help out if the first dueler is in danger or unable to fight."

"And what if I can't cast any duel-spells?"

"Drop your wand and give him a good kick in the pants," Ron suggested.

"Ron!" Hermione said, scandalized.

"Well you're the one who's agreed to be his second! What were you thinking?"

"I saw you about to volunteer and did the only sensible thing! And anyway, I know far more spells than you do!"

"I'm better at chess!"

"Chess isn't the same as real life!"

"Both of you, stop!" Harry scolded, "we can argue and blame each other later. For now, we need to figure out how we're going to fight him. Hermione, I need you to teach me any dueling spells you know," he looked at her pleadingly.

She sighed deeply, "fine. But one evening won't be enough, we'll have to arrange some sort of strategy to overthrow him, I only know a handful of dueling spells and Malfoy's probably been trained since he could walk."

Harry gave her a grateful look and a sheepish smile.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

That evening found the three of them standing in an abandoned classroom on the second floor, right beside the Trophy Room. It was almost eleven, and they had only covered some of the most basic spells possible.

"Alright, so you can do the basic protego, the jelly-legs jinx, and when you really try you can kind of do Expelliarmus," Hermione counted off on her fingers. She looked up dejectedly, "that's not much…"

"At…least…I can…manage a…jinx," Harry puffed out, still breathing hard from the heavy training he had gone through in order to master the jinx, "we…can declare…the duel over…if I hit him…with the jinx."

"Yes, you can. At least you have good aim." She sat down and thought hard, "listen, how about we devise an actual strategy. You can focus on jinxing him from the front, and I'll hold your protego up. It works for both of us since I'm horrible at aiming and you're horrible at concentrating and keeping up the shield. I know the second isn't supposed to get involved too much, so I'll be discreet."

"All right," he agreed, "sounds great."

"My question," Ron interrupted from where he was lounging on a desk, "is how we're going to get back to our dormitories. It's way past curfew, and if Snape or Filch sees us we'll be stuck in detention for months."

"I have it planned," she told him, "we're going to take a shortcut."

"What?"

She sighed, "this isn't going to sound fun, but it's the only way. You see, I was getting lost frequently, so I went to the library to study some maps of the school building. While looking at them, I figured out some shortcuts to all our classes," she took out her copy of _Hogwarts: A History _and turned to the back where maps folded out of the book. Carefully unraveling the folded paper, she pointed to the Trophy room, "this is where we are right now. The stairwell is right below, a few steps down the hall. After that, we can take the second staircase to the second corridor on the third floor-"

"That's where the dog is! The dog with the three heads!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yes, but remember, he's chained up. We just need to keep to the walls and make our way across the room. Then we exit and make our way to this double-opening broom closet that opens on either side of the corridor. We exit through the other side, and we'll be in the east stairwell. All we need to do is take one stair up and we'll be right in front of the Gryffindor Common Room."

"I don't know 'Mione…"

"Oh grow a spine Ronald, it's just a dog!" She told him, "if Hagrid likes it then it can't be that bad."

"On the contrary Hermione-" Harry began.

"There's no other way. If we take the longer route we'll have a greater chance of coming across Snape or Filch, and there's nowhere to run in a long empty corridor," she explained, "now let's go, there's only ten minutes left."

She packed her maps back inside the book and shoved it in her bag. Harry and Ron grabbed their bags and slung them over their shoulders, although they kept their wands in hand. With slow deliberation, the three of them made their way across the hall to the Trophy Room.

"Wow," Harry breathed while walking in, "it's…spacious."

"Yes. All the more space to destroy you in," a high voice sniggered from behind them. They spun around quickly to see a familiar blond face and his two cronies behind him.

"You look tired Potter. Did the poor mudblood spend all her time training you with the weak spells she tried to learn?"

"You look tired too Malfoy. Did daddy stop by to give you some hints?"

Draco's face darkened upon the mention of his father, and he flipped his wand out of his sleeve-holster, "fine, Potter. Let's start with the duel rewards then."

"Duel rewards?" Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged.

"It's the entire point of the duel!" Draco said, seeming agitated, "each dueler specifies his prize, and upon winning claims it." Suddenly his sneer grew wider, "and I know exactly what I want-"

"Wait wait wait, pause for a moment," Hermione shook her hands, "I need to understand this first."

"So what is it that your brain can't comprehend, mudblood?"

"Well, ferret-"

"Ferret?" Ron whispered.

"…He kind of resembles one, doesn't he?" Hermione whispered back.

"Alright, I approve," Ron nodded.

She turned back to Draco, "what are the requirements for what a dueler can ask?"

Malfoy looked at her, clueless, "the dueler has the right to demand anything."

"There has to be limits. We can't ask you to de-enroll yourself from Hogwarts, can we?"

Draco looked scandalized, "no dueler with an ounce of pride would ask that!"

"Exactly, so what can we ask? What are the requirements?"

"There are none! It's an honor system!" He yelled.

"Even an honor system has rules!" She shouted back.

"Stop making things so complicated!"

"Now who's brain can't comprehend?"

"Just ask for whatever, Gryffindork! I couldn't care less!"

"If you don't specify anything we'll ask you to get out of Hogwarts."

"That's disgraceful to ask! Like you're running away from your nemesis!"

"Clearly, so specify some rules!"

"Not everything has rules mudblood!"

"Well, ferret, _this _should!"

"Stop! You two are being too loud, Filch might catch us," Harry shouted at the top of his lungs. The room fell silent and they all watched him in amusement.

"At this rate we'll never get started," he said calmly. He turned to Draco, "listen, if I win the duel, you will give your word as a wizard to never speak bad about any Gryffindor for the rest of the year. And if you do, you will suffer consequences," he explained, trying to sound formal and legally binding.

Hermione almost laughed at his naivety, "no, let me change that a little." She spent a moment thinking, and then took out her notebook and muggle pen.

"Ok. If Harry Potter wins this match, indicated by Draco Malfoy's inability to continue the fight for more than one minute and his second's successive failure, Draco Malfoy will give his word of honor, sworn upon his family and pride, that he will never for the period of one year insult directly or indirectly a person of a house other than Slytherin. This prohibits direct insults, by which I mean anything that causes knowing hurt to the person, and indirect insults, which covers anything insulting said in the nearby vicinity that may or may not be heard by a person from a different house. He will also restrain from performing non-verbal insults such as rude gestures, written insults, and any sort of rude activity meant to harm the non-Slytherin's feelings. This includes sabotaging work, misinforming on purpose, and pranking. Additionally, he will adhere to all these rules even when among those of the same house, which means he may not insult any non-Slytherin in the presence of hearing of a Slytherin and encourage them to deliver the insult to the victim. If Draco Malfoy violates any of these rules, Hermione Granger, second of Harry Potter, will be allowed to cast any jinx on his person and he will not complain or let anyone know it was her" she scribbled into her notebook for a good three minutes and then looked up, "have I missed anything, Harry?"

There was a moment of silence while they all watched her closely. Harry and Ron were looked at her in confusion, and Draco was watching her in horror.

"Yes. Yes I think so, 'Mione," Ron finally said.

Harry cleared his throat, "so...those are my terms. Declare yours, Malfoy."

The blond boy shook himself out of his stupor and went back to his sneer, "if Harry Potter loses the duel to Draco Malfoy, he will withdraw from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. There's really no need to mess that up with conditions, it's plain enough. The duelists will now have five minutes to consider the terms and ask for changes. And before you say anything, know that my demand is final," he gave them a haughty look and turned to Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron grouped together.

"So? Are you willing, Harry?" She asked him. Personally, she thought it was a rather weak demand, seeing as it was only a stupid game.

"No! Harry you can't, it's Quidditch! Malfoy probably has some tricks up his sleeve, if you lose you'll lose your position as youngest seeker in a century!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry looked torn between their opinions.

"If there are any tricks he's using, we'll find out and we'll stop him," Hermione assured, "I've read the rulebook for duels over and over, there's no room for cheating. It's a good demand Harry, we'll be doing the school a big favor by winning."

"Draco's been dueling for a long time 'Mione," Ron explained, "his father didn't care about the underage magic requirements, Malfoy's had trainers since he was little."

"Harry's a really good shot, Ron. I think we can trust him to win, even with his limited repertoire."

"limited _what_?"

"I'm saying that although he doesn't know that many jinxes, he aims really well. After practicing with him for an entire evening, I judge his aim to be prefect," she whispered back.

"Listen, I'm really not that good-"

"Yes you are Harry. You're not good at all at learning the new spells, but once you pick them up you're brilliant! All you need to concentrate on is aiming and shooting. I'll take care of making sure Draco's spells don't hit you. Take Malfoy out first, all right? Crabbe'll be easy, he can't even move quickly."

The boy's face slowly set with determination, "ok. I'll do it. I agree."

"No…" Ron's face fell. She could see that he believed in his friend's abilities, but the prospect of losing Quidditch was too horrible for him to contemplate, even if unlikely.

Draco was ready and waiting as they turned around. He had his arms folded and Crabbe stood behind him. Goyle was leaning against the wall of the Trophy Room.

"Ready, Potter?" Draco's smirk was barely forced. Hermione narrowed her eyes, for some reason, he seemed overconfident. Too overconfident.

"Ready, Malfoy," Harry replied, keeping a brave face. He grasped his wand in his nimble fingers and loosened his grip slowly until it was comfortably loose his hand. Hermione's comforting presence was right behind him, she had taken her wand out and was ready to cast the shield.

"Then let the duel begin," Draco raised his wand and it emitted sparks. Clearly it had been for visual effect, since he brought it back down with a determined expression on his face.

They barely had a moment to think before the blond boy yelled out "Relashio!" Immediately, Hermione brought her own wand up and yelled out a 'Protego', covering both of them with the resulting magical barrier. The Relashio spread harmlessly onto its surface.

She looked around to see that Draco was running to the opposite side of the room while Crabbe stayed put. The tactic was clear, they were trying to surround them so that she would expend too much concentration on creating a full round shield. The only option was clear; she tugged at Harry's other sleeve and dragged him back so that their back was to the wall of he Trophy Room, where Goyle was leaning.

"Good idea, Hermione," Harry whispered to her. He brought up his wand and sent an Expelliarmus straight at Draco, who neatly dodged the spell, wand still gripped in his hand. Crabbe had been still so far, but now he brought up his own wand and sent a Jelly-Legs jinx their way. Hermione quickly concentrated her protego at the jinx and it dissipated.

"Leaning on the mudblood for support, are you Potter", Draco sneered.

"You won't be able to say that by the time we're done, Malfoy," Harry told him. He sent another Expelliarmus his way, and Draco stepped aside to dodge it.

"Crabbe! Go!" Draco suddenly yelled.

Hermione shot into action and looked over at the other Slytherin, prepared to cast another Protego, but he made no move to strike.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled. She turned around just in time to destroy the Flippendo jinx that Draco had sent at them.

"Almost fell for that one Potter!" Draco sneered again.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down while Harry shot more spells. Listening to Draco's talk was not a good idea. That had been too close.

"All right Harry we need a plan," she whispered.

"I have an idea," Harry breathed out while dodging an indirect jinx, "drop the shield and send a direct jinx at him, I'll strike where he dodges."

"Fine, all right," she agreed. He was planning to strike early at the spot where Draco would move into to dodge. It would probably take an immense amount of careful aim, but Harry could do it. She dropped the protego without any warning and pointed her wand.

"Relashio!" She yelled. Due to the shaking of her hand, it wasn't aimed perfectly, but it did the trick. Draco moved out of the way as he usually did. At that exact moment, Harry, a look of intense concentration on his face, cast a jelly-legs jinx.

"Ah!" Draco spotted the jinx right before it hit him. Unfortunately, he was quick enough to bring up a protego shield seconds before it hit him. There were clear sweat marks on his forehead, trailing down his face.

"Almost!" Hermione stomped her foot, "but it seems to work. Let's try again."

"Not now, he's already picked up on it," Harry said, "he'll start using protego instead of dodging," he stepped out of the way of another hex, "we have to wait until he gets his guard down again."

"Right," she brought the shield back up and held it straight. So far, Draco had sent over twenty offensive spells at them and Crabbe had sent none. The other Slytherin boy was still standing in the same spot, not having moved at all. Clearly, he was no danger to them. His reflexes were so slow she could easily bring up a protego only when he struck.

"You missed! It's time I got serious anyway," Draco yelled, "Impedimenta!"

It was an indirect jinx, and couldn't be blocked with a simply protego. Hermione dropped the shield and pointed her wand at it, "Impedimenta!"

The two Impedimenta's clashed and wiped each other out. Harry looked back at her, "so if I send a jinx at his jinx they'll cancel out?" He asked breathlessly.

"Only sometimes. They have to be the same spell and with the same power," she told him, "stick to dodging."

Harry's eyes narrowed, "I think we ought to finish this. Hermione, leave the Protego and cast whatever you can."

She nodded, knowing that he wanted her to cast indirect jinxes that would force Draco to move.

"Relashio! Impedimenta! Flippendo!" She yelled a mix of jinxes. Draco saw them all come at him at once, there was no time to distinguish between them and determine which of them he could dodge, so he moved quickly.

"Flippedo! Impedimenta!" Hermione was sweating and yelling as much as she could, she could feel her concentration dwindling. From beside her, Harry was casting more conservatively, aiming carefully and pointing exactly where Draco moved each time. The blond boy was left to run around, desperately avoiding each spell.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted. This time, Draco couldn't move out of the way fast enough. It caught his hand and sent his wand flying. Harry broke out into a large grin at his victory.

The duel had mentioned that it ended when one duelist could not fight for more than a minute. All they had to do was get to Draco's wand and prevent him to getting it first. There was no way he could Accio it, since wandless magic was beyond most first years. They had all but won.

That was the thought in Hermione's head as she felt an Impedimenta hit her in the back, sending her tumbling across the floor, away from the wand. She wasted no time pushing herself up as fast as she could and seeing who had cast it. At first, she saw Draco's smirk. But it was impossible, no first year could perform a wandless Impedimenta. Her question was answered as she turned to see Gregory Goyle picking up Draco's wand. The Slytherin boy threw it across the room, where it landed neatly in Draco's hand.

"That's against the rules!" She yelled, "you did not declared a third!"

Draco's smirk grew wider as he watcher her stumbled, "no. But declaring isn't required. The rules for a Wizard's Duel only mention that all members of the duel must be within a certain distance of each other. Clearly, Goyle was within the required distance. He was standing right behind you," he wiped the sweat off his face with one sleeve, "I believe the distance was twenty feet from your First, in order to be a second or a third," he grinned, "remember, Gryffindorks. You're fighting with one from the noble line of Slytherin."

Harry gritted his teeth as he watched Hermione slowly pick herself up and run back to his side. He gripped his wand tighter and forced himself to concentrate. Now there were three of them, and they all seemed to have been trained to duel. Hermione was tired out from the quick succession of jinxes she had cast, and he was getting drained as well. Luckily Draco looked just as tired. Unluckily, Crabbe and Goyle were still fresh and new.

"What do we do?" He whispered to Hermione as they watched the three Slytherins surround them warily.

She paused and took some deep breaths before answering, "Draco is tired. If it was just him, you'd have a chance. We need to take out Crabbe and Goyle. Luckily, they have bad reflexes, we can use the strike-run-strike method we tried to Draco before. However," she paused and bit her lip, "I'm getting really tired, I can only do two more high-powered spells at maximum. We have to take each of the two down in one go. You have to aim perfectly."

Harry nodded in determination, wand pointed and prepared, "go ahead, I'm ready."

She nodded. Pulling herself together, Hermione raised her wand.

"Fine. If you want to play like this, we'll take it. Merlin knows these idiots won't give you any kind of further advantage."

Crabbe narrowed his eyes, affronted, and Hermione took the chance.

"Relashio!"

The high-powered spell went rushing towards him. The Slytherin boy immediately stepped to the side.

Beside her, Harry whispered a Jelly-Legs Jinx. It flew out of his wand and struck him right in the chest. Crabbe looked at them, confused at what had just happened, before his legs gave way and he sunk to the ground, dropping his wand.

"Impedimenta!" A furious Draco yelled from behind them. Harry and Hermione both leapt out of the way, knowing that she had no energy for a shield.

"Now Goyle," she whispered to him. She turned towards the other Slytherin.

"Hey Goyle! Let's see if all those Treacle Tarts will help you dodge this!"

She sent Impedimenta his way, aiming for his chest. Like Crabbe, he immediately moved out of the way. Harry took the chance to send an Expelliarmus his way, but before it could reach him, an Expelliarmus sent from Draco's wand canceled it out. Harry looked aside to where Draco was grinning.

"Same trick doesn't work thrice Potter!" He sent a jinx at Harry, which was dodged.

Hermione gritted her teeth and thought carefully. There was no way she could cast another spell powerful enough to force Goyle to dodge, and she didn't want tire Harry out. There had to be some way to distract him, to make him move…

Suddenly she had an idea. Hermione reached into her bag, groping around until her hands felt two devices made of smooth metal. She didn't take them out; it wasn't necessary. She already knew her way around every button and switch and could operate it perfectly from within her bag.

"Harry, when I say go, strike Goyle," she whispered the command. He nodded, wondering what she was about to do.

"Fine, seemingly your _Master _can help you with some things," she spat out at Goyle, "let's see if he can stop you from this."

The room was relatively dark. It was past midnight after all, and the faint lamps that had turned on upon their entry were still rather dim. This was why the bright screen of Hermione's mobile phone was so effective. She had increased the brightness to the maximum, and now she pulled it out of her bag. She second device was a watch, one that she never really wore (it was a single-function device after all). She turned the phone so that the light was aimed at the watch-face, held in her other hand, and aimed the smooth metal surface directly into Goyle's eyes. The reflection of the light from the watch face was glaring.

"Go!"

She hadn't been exaggerating while speaking of his quick reflexes. The Boy-Who-Lived drew out his wand and cast a Jelly Legs jinx just as Goyle covered his eyes with his hands to get rid of the glare. It struck him in the chest, and he slowly collapsed.

They both turned around to see an angry Malfoy glaring daggers at them. Hermione knew she couldn't do any more spells, so she evenly stepped out of the way, letting Harry face him.

"So, you seem to still think that you stand a chance. I'm nothing like those two idiots, Potter," Draco sneered, "I won't be as easy."

"See that's what's different between us, Malfoy," Harry panted, "I don't call my friends idiots."

"Let's see if that'll help you with _this_," Draco yelled, "Confringo!"

Harry pushed himself out of the way seconds before a beam of fire rushed into the area where he had just stood.

"Impedimenta!"

He dodged again. Although his aim was perfect, Hermione could see that he was having trouble raising his wand to aim amid all the dodging and running. She leaned back against the room's wall and watched, trying to mentally prod him on.

"Flipendo!"

This time, Harry stood his place. He brought his wand up and yelled 'Protego' before it could hit him. Hermione winced and crossed her fingers, hoping that it would hold.

Luckily, it did. The spell dissipated into the invisible barrier, leaving Harry still standing, albeit breathless. He lowered the Protego and looked on, a new determination in his eyes. But before he could raise his wand again, he was sent running and dodging by Draco's Flipendo jinxes.

"Not so brave now, are you Potter?"

"Maybe not, but you're just as cowardly as always Malfoy!"

Finally, Harry stood his ground and was able to send a Jelly Legs jinx at Draco, who dodged it with a little less stealth than usual. It seemed he was getting just as tired from all the magical expending.

He seemed to know this as well. Draco raised his wand and aimed it. This time, she could see he was putting everything he had into one high-powered offensive.

"Confrin-"

"Wingadium Leviosa!"

The other spell was uttered before Draco could finish his Confringo, and before he knew it, a giant object was plummeting towards him. It struck him right on the head. Harry and Hermione watched in silent confusion as he sunk to the ground, groaning, with his head clutched in his hands. His wand was dropped to the floor, and it rolled away from him.

The object that had hit him was the House Cup, the largest trophy displayed in the Trophy Room. Someone had used it as a projectile. Harry looked at Hermione. Hermione looked at Harry. They both looked confused. Then they remembered, and they both turned around in unison to see the red-head standing across the room.

Ron had his wand pointed, and his face was red. When he spoke, his words were filled with pride.

"Harry is not leaving our Quidditch team!"

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Fifteen feet," Hermione declared, putting the measuring tape back into her bag, "it's legal."

Draco groaned, hands still pressed to the large lump on his head. Harry and Ron looked at each other with glee. Crabbe and Goyle were still stuck with jelly legs.

"Well then," Hermione took out her notebook and pen, "just read this aloud, and sign your name at the bottom," she thrust them at him.

The Slytherin slowly reached for the two items, grimacing with disgust at the Muggle paper and muggle pen. Fortunately, he knew he couldn't make any comments.

"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear upon my family's honor, that due to the loss I have sustained today at the hands of Harry James Potter, I will never for the period of one year insult directly or indirectly a person of a house other than Slytherin. I am prohibited to use direct insults that cause knowing harm to another, and indirect insults, which covers anything I may say in the nearby vicinity that may or may not – oh for Merlin's sake, Granger!"


	11. Operation Snake Charming

**Sorry this is a little late; IB exams got in the way...hopefully this relatively long chapter makes up for it.**

**Thanks for all the reviews! I did try very hard to make a proper duel (people always seem to avoid them and I don't know why because they're so fun to write!) and I'm glad you all liked it.**

**Also I now have a beta, which is great! (Thanks lavanyalabelle for volunteering to beta this story!)**

**Chapter 11**

"…and what on earth is this?" Lavender Brown asked, holding up an electronic toothbrush, "it looks like a toothbrush…but it's fatter. Why do you need such a large device to clean your teeth with? Is it for your front teeth? They do stick out a little…" She turned it over in her hand, and then yelped when she pressed a button that made the bristles swirl around.

Hermione sighed. Asking her roommates to help her pack had not been a good idea. And she could do without the buckteeth references; they were just a little large for her mouth, was all. Eventually they would be just fine.

"It _is _a toothbrush Lavender, it has muggle technology in it that makes it swirl around and clean your teeth more efficiently. My parents are dentists, they insist on making me using this."

"Why are you packing so early anyway?" Parvati questioned. She meticulously folded another of Hermione's shirts and placed it neatly in the truck.

"Early?" She looked up, "I have to leave tomorrow."

Lavender shrugged, "then why not pack tomorrow? That's what I'd do."

"I like to be early." She watched as the last piece of clothing went into the truck, along with her computer, various books, and other pair of Hogwarts robes to show her parents. She had momentarily thought about staying at Hogwarts and keeping Harry and Ron company, but decided against it. Spending the holidays with her family was too much of a tradition; she never spent it with anyone else. She'd send Harry and Ron some presents instead. And maybe get permission from McGonagall to let them come over for a day or two. That promise she made to her parents was finally fulfilled, she'd made some friends. And it didn't feel quite as bad as it sounded, either.

"Parvati and I are going to play Wizard's chess with Terry Boot and some of the other Ravenclaws", Lavender mentioned, "well, in reality Parvati will play chess while I find out what's happening in Ravenclaw these days. Want to come with us? I hear you're good at Wizard's chess."

Hermione smirked, "as much fun as it would be to sit among Ravenclaw and suppress my everlasting envy of their luck during Sorting, I'll have to decline the offer. You see, Harry and Ron and I have some interesting plans for today," she smirked.

"Ooh, tell us", Parvati rested her chin in her hands and waited for the story.

"I can't tell you everything because that might ruin it. However, it _does _involve one Draco Malfoy."

Before the other two had the chance to comment, Hermione skipped happily out of the dorm room, bushy hair flying behind her and a large smile plastered to her face. She bounded down the stairs into the Gryffindor Common Room, where Harry and Ron were waiting on the sofas with equally bright smiles.

"So it's true, girls _do_ take hours to get dressed", Ron said, standing up, "we were about to leave and carry it our ourselves."

"I was packing for tomorrow", Hermione rolled her eyes, "And without me you two would be completely messed up in minutes. I'm here now, let's start. You know, we need a name for this. What do you think?"

"Operation Snake Charming", Harry said with a straight face, "for today, we shall make a snake dance."

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Saturday, 10:00 am, behind one of the pillars in the Great Hall:

"What if he doesn't show up?" Ron whispered. He had readily agreed to being squished behind a stone pillar for the sake of Operation Snake Charming stage one. Of course, with all the chicken he ate, the task wasn't easy. But he wouldn't have missed it for the world.

"He'll show up. He's can't be that much of a coward, can he?" Harry whispered back. He was rather lean of frame, and didn't mind the position as much as Ron, who was getting slightly pudgy.

"Thankfully not, he's just entered."

The blond Malfoy had just entered the Hall, headed to a late breakfast. They had been sitting behind the pillar for almost half and hour, it seemed Draco had been waiting so that the three of them would have finished their breakfast and left the hall. It was unlucky for him that Gryffindors were not known for giving up.

The trio quietly followed him into the hall, where the remnants of Hogwarts breakfast were still lining the tables. Slytherin house all looked up as their price entered. Draco was trying hard to make his frequent glimpses at the Gryffindor table seem natural.

Before he had a chance to sit down, Ron ran up to him and tapped his shoulder. Draco whipped around and looked slightly worried.

"Good morning Draco!" Ron greeted happily. The smile on his face extended from one ear to the other, as though he'd just been declared captain of the Quidditch team.

"Yes…good morning", Draco responded neutrally after a brief moment of hesitation. A silver fork was steadily held in his hand, which stopped in midair still skewered to a crepe. Suddenly the entire hall seemed quiet, and even the teachers were watching the exchange with curiosity.

"So Draco, I hear you've been reading the book 'The transmutation of animals', the one professor McGonagall recently recommended. How is it so far?" Hermione pitched in.

At this point, Draco Malfoy was looking slightly uncomfortable, he seemed torn between responded and giving them the silent treatment, which he knew Hermione would somehow morph into something that went against his vow. His eyebrows furrowed together, as if silently reminding them that the next year would be hell. For the moment however, he was already thanking his stars that their duel was being kept a secret.

"It's interesting", he answered blankly, fork still in midair. Some of the younger Slytherins nearby were watching with mixed emotions.

"That's good, because unfortunately there are no more copies in the library and I was wondering if I could borrow yours", she smiled widely at him.

"Yeah, that'd be great Draco – can I call you Draco? I'm actually finding animal transfiguration interesting as well, and it would be easier to me to access it if it was with Hermione. Of course, she doesn't actually let go of her books; I'm just planning on reading it over her shoulder", Harry joked. Ron and Hermione laughed heartily while Draco gave them a watery smile under eyes that shot daggers.

"Sod off Gryffindorks. Get to your own table", Blaise Zabini yelled from a seat nearby.

Hermione pouted, "Draco, all the rest of the Slytherins are so mean, we should have a little more house unity, shouldn't we?"

"Er…yes. Of course", Draco responded without moving. Zabini gave him a questioning look but didn't seem to find an answer in his answering glare.

"Anyway, the book? Do you have it with you?"

Draco reached wordlessly into his serpent-engraved book bag and pulled out a leather bound tome, pushing it into her hands.

"Great! Thank you so much, I'll return it a little later. See you in class!" She waved.

"Yes", Draco managed. A monosyllabic response, but a response nonetheless.

The three of them skipped happily over to the Gryffindor table, proudly holding the book they had just gotten from a Slytherin. The eyes of everyone in the hall followed them, completely unsure of what to think of the display. The most curious eyes were those of the Gryffindors, who didn't know whether to be happy or shocked.

"So Harry-"

"-Hermione-"

"-Ron-"

"Tell us please-"

"-Exactly what just happened", The Weasley twins bombarded them verbally as soon as they had taken their seats. Judging from the broad smiles on their faces, they clearly had a prankster's view on the issue.

"We can't tell. We're trying to spread inter-House unity", Ron stated proudly.

"Oh bullshit, tell us what you really have up your sleeve", Fred badgered.

"Why was Malfoy being so nice?"

"Why did you need another copy of the book you already have?"

"More importantly, what did you pull on Malfoy for him to act like that?"

Harry shrugged, "he had a change of mind."

"More like a change of heart", Hermione added, "he just felt that all of this enmity was for nothing. You know, I guessed that something like this would happen the moment I heard about the House system", she stated, really getting involved in the tale. "I even told my mother. Now that we have the chance, we're going to aim for something big, because this is a school, not a battleground. We shouldn't be feeling such enmity towards our fellow students."

"Hear, hear," Seamus Finnegan, a half-blood student, started clapping. Some others followed suit, and the Golden Trio glowed with pride and new ideas on how to exploit their situation for the benefit of the people.

To the rest of the school however, one thing was certain. Hermione Granger had dirt on Draco Malfoy.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Unfortunately for Hermione, who was enveloped in the bliss of planning the next steps of Operation Snake Charming, Malfoy had called in sick, and was 'unable' to make it to the rest of the day's classes. Which was a pity, really. Since it was the day before the break, most teachers hadn't planned out a full lesson, which would have left lots of time for some good ol' Malfoy baiting.

Harry, although excited, didn't see things in the same way she did. He seemed to be ecstatic with the simply fact that Malfoy could no longer harm him and his friends, and didn't seem too interested in pushing their newfound powers to their limits. Another pity, he was actually rather sharp. Ron, on the other hand, was right up her alley in this. He never stopped strategizing, even during lunch, when it would have been better if he had. Nothing sounded considerable when spoken by a mouth filled with pastries, nothing.

News travelled fast at Hogwarts, thought, and rumors went even faster. The entire school had been witness to the peculiar situation that had presented itself at breakfast that day, and the gossipers did what they did best. Secret notes were being passed, with such things scribbled on them as '_Potter and his friends have found out that Malfoy's secretly bribing his professors for grades', _and _'Malfoy has a secret squib brother', _and '_Malfoy's secretly betrothed to Hermione Granger!' _It didn't help that Ron had taken to winking at people who spread these, pretending to confirm them even though he had no idea what they were actually saying. He figured anything they said would be anti-Malfoy anyway.

But Draco didn't leave his dorm room, and soon enough Hermione was on the train to Kings Cross Station, waving goodbye to Ron and a rather forlorn Harry. It was a fast ride that she fully slept through, and luckily her father had remembered where the station was, and was waiting there when she burst out through the gateway.

After a tight hug, Fred Granger went immediately to the questioning.

"Hold on a minute, 'Mione, didn't all these people just see you come out of a brick wall? There's something called the Statute of Secrecy, isn't there? Should I be worried?"

Hermione giggled, "no, daddy. There's a Notice-Me-Not charm placed on the barrier, it activates whenever someone's coming through."

The older Granger visibly relaxed. "Good. Now, tell me all about this Magic school you just disappeared to…"

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Christmas day, Hermione came down to the sight of both her parents sitting in the living room with a small pile of gifts. She looked around, perplexed. She walked a little further into the room and spun in a circle. Unfortunately, it wasn't there.

"Mum, where exactly is the tree?"

"Er…well…" Monica Granger stumbled, "you were away."

"Yes, yes I was", Hermione was usually the one setting up the tree; her parents considered it a nice sight, but a cumbersome and pointless tradition in general. Still, it was strange to think they would let a Christmas go by without one.

"Why didn't you set it up? It's right there in the basement."

"Yes, and it still is."

"Well then let me go get it-"

"That wouldn't be such a great idea 'Mione."

"Why not?"

"Well, since you were away, we did try…"

"And what happened?"

"I didn't know it was possible for a tree to break down the centre…"

Hermione groaned, "You couldn't carry a tree up a set of stairs?"

"We tried, we failed, and there's always next time. Come open your presents," she clapped her hands together in delight. Hermione approached the table to see quite a few presents wrapped in paper with moving images. Her father was holding one up, fascinated.

"How do they do that?"

She shrugged, "I've picked up a rather bad habit from my time at Hogwarts. Whenever I thinking something along those lines my brain answers with the word 'magic'."

"A very bad habit indeed," he gave her a playfully disapproving look, "one must question everything. Even if it's magic."

She shrugged and walked over and took the present, "oh! It's from Lavender and Parvati!" She neatly peeled the paper open to see another layer of messier wrapping paper. She smiled; clearly Lavender had tried to wrap it before Parvati succeeded. Underneath the paper was a small, decorated box filled with jeweled hair accessories.

"That's beautiful, dear. Who sent it?" Her mother peered into the box.

"My roommates", she answered, "they're amazing. We didn't get along too well at first but they kind of grew on me."

Both of her parents watched her with equally bright smiles, happy that she had finally accepted that friendship wasn't so annoying a thing as she'd thought.

She blushed and picked up another.

"It's from Ron and Harry!" The wrapping paper flew off the little box in a flurry as she opened it. Inside was a large box of assorted candy, everything from the typical chocolate frog to the more exotic licorice-flavored lizards. She smiled, and her mother peered over her shoulder.

"You can't eat all of that! All the work we've done on your teeth will be ruined!" She protested.

"Well then you can have some. It's magic candy, you'll like it," she passed the box to her parents, who pondered over the moving candy silently. She had packed and sent her two friends a box of muggle candy the previous day, knowing that he would probably send her something along the same lines. Underneath the box of candy was a sealed letter, written in Harry's slightly messy handwriting. She unfolded it and began to read.

_Dear Hermione, _

_ Hope you've been having an amazing Christmas. Winter break at Hogwarts is loads of fun, and Ron's been showing me how to play Wizard's chess. I don't think I'll ever beat him, but it's fun anyway. I wanted to write to tell you about the present I got this morning, although I don't know who it's from. It's a sort of cloak, except when you put it around yourself you become invisible. Ron says it's an Invisibility Cloak, and that it's very rare. I was thinking that I could use it to get into the Restricted Section to find information on Nicholas Flamel and the Cerberus. I'll just have to hope to Merlin that I don't get caught. I haven't told Ron yet because he'll want to come with me, and I don't think I can be very quiet with another person under the cloak. _

_I'm doing this urgently because I saw something strange yesterday. It was Snape and Quirrel, in the corridor. Snape had Quirrel backed up against the wall, and was threatening him. At first I thought it was about the way Quirrel had been treating us in DADA, but they clearly said the word 'stone'. I'm probably wrong, but I think one of them (or both) might be conspiring to steal it. If it's true, we could be in danger. Is there anyway we could meet after I get the books? Professor McGonagall might let us come stay if it's with a friend, and even if she doesn't I can get out with my cloak. I'm very worried, and I think Quirrel is following me during the day because I see shadows behind me that aren't my own…_

_Your Friend, _

_Harry_

"Is that a letter from a friend, 'Mione?" Monica Granger peered over her daughter's shoulder.

Hermione re-folded the letter quickly. Things were going badly if Harry actually took the chance to write it out in a letter. She forced herself to smile.

"Yes mum, their asking if they could come stay for tomorrow. Can they? Daddy could pick them up from Kings Cross Station", she gave the best puppy-eyes that she could manage.

"Why that's wonderful! Making so many friends already, this school is really changing you for the better."

"On the other hand, Keep in mind that you have half a grade's syllabus to cover before you return," her father reminded her, "I don't want you falling behind on your studies."

"Yes yes, I'll study loads. I was busier than I though I'd be during school, but I think I can catch up in time", she told them, "Ron and Harry want to come over and I'd really like to schow them muggle things. You see, Ron's from a pure wizarding family and he's never seen any technology, you spoke to his father when Professor McGonagall came to see me. Harry's from a muggle family but his relatives never let him around technology much for some reason, so he's never even played a video game. It'll be so fun to show them around!"

"Well, alright. If your friends can get to King's Station I'll bring them here", her father conceded.

"Good", Hermione sat down with a piece of paper and began to write a reply.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

The next morning, she was awake just as early, waiting impatiently for the arrival of her friends. She hoped that they had been able to obtain a permit to leave the school, and that what they had found out was not too dangerous. If Quirrel and Snape were working together, they really had no chance. Snape by himself was formidable, but now that they knew of Quirrel's actual skill…

Luckily her mother took her nervousness for excitement. She gave her an exuberant thumbs up and a smile.

"I can't wait to meet these friends of yours, what are their names again?"

"Ron and Harry", she mumbled through a spoon of cereal. This was going to be more than a little embarrassing if her parents insisted on treating their arrival as the 'herald of the new Hermione'. It was going to be blatantly obvious to both Ron and Harry that she'd never had friends before. Well, Ron probably wouldn't notice it. He wasn't very sharp.

Harry, on the other hand, had an eye for subtle things like this. She'd realized that a while ago. He seemed very nice on the outside, but he was incredibly responsive to other's situations.

"What are they like? How did you meet them?" Monica Granger asked impatiently, running her hands through the smooth, straight hair that Hermione cursed her genes for not having inherited.

"I met them at the sorting, we were both put into the same house. Harry's a sort of celebrity there for something that happened to him when he was younger, so everyone else was too nervous to be around him. Except for Ron, I think they met on the train.

"Famous? What did he do?"

Before she could answer, they heard the front door turn and footsteps on the porch. Hermione jumped out of her seat and half-ran to the doorway, where two boys in puffy winter jackets had entered along with her father. They both had their trunks with them, and Harry had brought his white owl Hedwig.

"'Mione this place is fantastic! The houses are so big!" Ron exclaimed, pulling off his jacket. He turned to Harry, "do you live in a place like this too?"

"Sort of. My relatives do live in a suburb", he commented while taking his boots off.

"We'd be even more interested to see a wizard's house", Hermione's father told them, "that would be a treat."

"Then you should! Dad would love to have Muggles over! 'Cept you have to be all right with telling him all about elek-tricity and rubber ducks", the red-headed boy replied.

"How did Professor McGonagall let you come? I thought students staying over the break had to remain in the castle?"

"I got permission from my Mum. I'm not sure about Harry, he just talked to her", Ron shrugged and looked over at him.

"Professor McGonagall knows about my situation. As my teacher she was permitted to temporarily act as my guardian and give me permission", Harry explained. The way he quickly swiped his hair out of his face indicated that he was more than a little uncomfortable.

"Well, I guess you can tell me about the presents you mentioned now", she indicated for them to follow her up the stairs.

"Thanks for picking us up Mr. Granger", Harry waved, polite as ever, before following. Ron seemed to go a little red for not having thought of it. He hadn't a polite bone in his body.

They followed her as she lead them to her room at the end of the hall, bringing their bags. Once they entered, she pulled out her desk chair and her beanbag chairs and mentioned for them to sit. She almost chuckled watching Ron curiously position himself in the beanbag, slipping out every few seconds.

"Tell me about the letter", she started.

"Letter?" Ron asked, looking at Harry.

"I sent her a letter about the cloak along with our present, mentioning that I was going to use it to get the book from the Restricted section", he mumbled to the red-head while reaching into his bag. After a moment of shuffling he pulled out a small book with a broken spine. Like many of the older books, it had no writing on the cover. The title was on the first page, while he turned to.

"Magikal Beasts and How to Tame Them, by Virilda Hoppet", Hermione read, "that sounds promising. Did you find anything interesting?"

"Yes, in fact. I found something that makes me a little nervous", Harry answered, flipping through the pages. He settled at one that he had already dog-eared. Before she could lecture him on the proper ways to treat an old book, he shoved it into her hands and pointed at a passage for her to read.

"The Cerberus is fairly tame in terms of wild creatures", she read, "It is characterized by its large build and three heads, each of which has the look of that of a rather large dog. They are rumored to have come from the Great Cerberus that once guarded the gates of the underworld in magical Greek mythology. However, despite their ferocious exterior, they are easily controlled. All one must do is bring an instrument of music, and let the melody wash over them. When they hear the music, they will fall into a sleep from which they will not awake until the melody is stopped. During that time, a person may disturb them to any extent without fear of injury."

There was a moment of silence in which all three of them digested the knowledge that they had just heard.

"What?" Ron exclaimed, "That's IT? All you've got to do is play some music to it? How on earth can Dumbledore think this is a good place to hide a precious magical artifact? Even we can get to it."

"No, that can't be it. There must be more traps within, and the Cerberus is simply to frighten the students and keep us away from it", Harry commented, "Dumbledore can't be that careless."

"But still, Quirrel is stronger than we thought, he could probably get through any traps easily", Hermione groaned, "we have to tell Hagrid. Let's send him an owl", she turned expectantly to Harry.

The Boy Who Lived nodded and took Hedwig's cage off his truck and helped himself to the note paper and pens that were lying on Hermione's desk, "I'll write to him and ask him to warn Dumbledore that Snape and Quirrel are trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone."

"Should we really mention Snape too? What if it's just Quirrel?"

"I know what I saw, Hermione", Harry answered while scribbling down the note, "Snape was with Quirrel in that hallway. And both of them have been following me. Quirrel is just more open about it so I notice him, but I know Snape has been trailing me as well. He's using some sort of disillusionment charm, but I can hear his robes swoosh around every corner."

She inadvertently shivered. Having Snape following you everywhere you went was not a pleasant thought.

"Alright, well, Hagrid should be at home around now. We should get a reply fairly soon", Hermione shrugged while watching Harry struggle to tie the muggle paper to Hedwig's foot. Parchment was more malleable; paper was hard to bend.

"Go deliver this to Hagrid, girl", he petted the bird on its head and sent it off.

"Now that that's settled, let's show Hermione the cloak!" Ron exclaimed, fumbling with the laches on Harry's trunk. Hermione peered into the trunk as watched as the red-head drew out a bundle of black cloth.

"Watch this", Harry said, taking the cloth from Ron. He opened up the shimmering material and dragged it around himself, instantly disappearing.

She clapped with delight and laughed, "That's marvelous! Will it work on me too?"

"Yes of course", Harry smiled and spread it over her, laughing as it made her disappear. It felt like being enveloped in a sort of heavy silk, a wonderful feeling.

"Hey I wonder if it'll fit all three of us!" Ron exclaimed, dragging a corner over his own head and joining the laughter, "yes! Yes it does! Now we can all sneak out to Hogsmeade together before third year!"

"I don't think that would be too clever", Harry replied, still smiling and slowly recovering the cloak from over their heads, "I don't want McGonagall or any of the other teachers to know about it, it could be very useful later on and they might take it away", he carefully folded it up and placed it on his trunk. Hermione could see the care he held it with, a testament of his forlorn love for a father he never knew. She couldn't ever imagine what it would be like to be in his shoes, famous worldwide but without parents to go home to.

"Yes, is it really that rare?" She changed her train of though, "I mean, in a world of magic, a cloak that can turn you invisible doesn't sound that impressive, especially when every witch and wizard worth their salt knows a few good disillusionment charms."

"This one's different, it belonged to Harry's father", Ron stated.

"No, not sentimentally, magically", she clarified, "how is it magically different from a charm?"

"Exactly what I said, most invisibility charms wear off within a few days. The fact that this one belonged to Harry's father and is still working fine today means that it's different; it could even be a _true _cloak of invisibility, like the one in the legends", Ron explained with a goofy smile, "it's so exciting!"

Hermione and Harry looked at each other, and then at Ron. Legends?

"There are legends about cloaks like this?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Oh yea, mum always told it to us back when we were young, the story of The Deathly Hallows. We got pretty bored of it soon, but every wizarding child knows the tale of the three hallows", he told them, "haven't you ever heard of it Hermione? You always have some book or other in your hands."

"But they aren't _fairytales, _they're important books! Tell us this one."

"Blimey, really? Harry, you've never heard of it either?" He asked with a surprised look.

"Ron Harry and I grew up reading about Cinderella and Snow While and the Seven Dwarves", she explained, ignoring Harry's mouthed question of 'what's Cinderella?', "go on then."

"Alright. I've got it by memory anyway. The story begins with three brothers. Mum never knew what their names were, so she just called them the Brothers", Ron started, settling himself down as comfortably as he could in the beanbag chair, "they were all very different. The eldest brother loved power," he made a muscle flexing motion, "his goal was to be the greatest duelist ever known to man, and he fought for it.

"The second brother was in mourning. A girl that he'd loved had died, and he'd never been the same. He tried everything he could and lived preserving her memory.

"The third brother was a sharp bloke. He was very cautious and clever, and that's all mum ever said about him. One day, these three brothers were walking in the forest, and they came across a bridge. It was a rather large bridge, and any Muggle would've found it hard to cross. But the Brothers were wizards, and powerful ones. They used magic to easily cross the bridge, and got safely to the other side. As soon as they had crossed, Death came out from under the bridge-"

"Pardon?" Hermione asked.

"Death, you know…the thing that kills people"

"Oh, you must mean the Reaper. It's just a little silly to personify death like that, is all. Go on…"

"All right then", he shot her an annoyed look, "Death came out from under the bridge and greeted them with open arms. For many years, muggles who had tried to cross the bridge would fall in and die, and Death would take them for himself. The Brothers were the only people so far who had survived, and Death was impressed. However, he still wanted them for himself.

"So he decided to reward them. He asked each brother what he wanted as a reward for successfully crossing the bridge. The first brother immediately saw his chance and demanded to become the best duelist in the world. Death smiled and picked a branch from an Elder tree, and handed it to him, saying that it was a wand that could win every duel. Thus was created the Elder Wand.

"The second brother saw his chance and asked for something that would bring his dead lover back to life. Death smiled, took a stone from the riverbank, and handed it to him, saying it was a stone that could bring the dead back to life. Thus was created the Resurrection Stone.

"The third brother was cautious, and he knew Death was up to something. So he asked Death for the ability to hide from anything and anyone. Death was annoyed at this request, but he conceded it, tearing off a piece of his own black cloak and handing it to him. Thus was created the Cloak of Invisibility."

"And this was like the one Harry has? A permanent one?" Hermione interjected.

"Yea, this was the legend's version. Anyway, the story continues. Later on, the eldest brother soon became the best duelist in the world and never lost. However one night, one of his opponents snuck into his room and murdered him in the night. Death had forgotten to mention that the wand would travel from owner to victor, so the opponent took the wand away from him. So Death took the first brother for himself.

"The second brother tried to bring back his lover, but it turns out that the Stone can't bring back a full person, it's simply impossible because the person is already dead, they're gone forever and even magic can't bring them back. It only brought back a shadow of her, and he was so depressed by it that he killed himself in order to join her. So Death took the second brother for himself.

"Then, Death looked far and wide, but he could never find the third brother. He had the cloak of invisibility, which hid him from Death itself. Eventually, the third brother was satisfied with his life and decided to move on. He gave the cloak to his child, and greeted Death like an old friend. And so Death took the third brother for himself. From then on, it was rumored that the Elder Wand was passed down the line of the most powerful wizards who ever lived, the stone was hidden and never found, and the cloak was passed down from parent to child through the generations", Ron finished.

There was a moment of silence while the three first years contemplated the story they had just heard. It was Harry who finally spoke.

"Maybe some of the legend is true, then. I mean, clearly Death isn't a person, but maybe the three objects really exist. The cloak was passed down to me by my father…"

"It's possible, but improbable", Hermione bit her lip, "a wand that could defeat anyone?..."

"It's very possible", Ron stated, "something this powerful could've only been made by a wizard of great power."

Before they could continue the discussion, they heard a bang on the window. Hedwig had returned. Hermione rushed up to slide the glass open and motioned for the bird to come in, closing the window behind it. She moved it's feathers aside to examine it's leg, which had a different note attached to it. This one was much larger, and Hedwig had clearly struggled while carrying it. It was written on a piece of thick parchment, with what looked like an ink pen with a nib almost a centimeter wide.

"Open it, let's see if he's informed Dumbledore yet", Harry urged.

Hermione nodded and slowly unraveled the piece of paper squinting at the chicken scratch that had been written on it.

"Don't you…worry, Harry," she read, "professor Snape…would never do some…thing like that. He's one of the…one's who…made…one of the stone's…protections. Professor Dumbledore is…away…nothing to worry…about."

"That's not good!" Harry exclaimed.

"Why not? If Snape helped protect the stone then-"

"He knows how to get passed it!"

She considered that perspective with unease, realizing that if it was true, it was even worse. Quirrel was definitely suspicious enough, and Harry had seen him and Snape together…

"We have to help! If Headmaster Dumbledore is away then the stone can be easily taken", Harry stressed. We have to save the stone as soon as possible…"

"I'm with you mate", Ron agreed, "'Mione, come back to Hogwarts with us tomorrow. We have to keep Quirrel away from the dog."

"Of course. I'll get packing right away, I suppose catching up with chemistry can wait", she agreed.

The three of them sat with growing unease, fearing the thought of a man with a purple turban…


End file.
